Blood Contract
by ShadesofNite
Summary: A world in conflict, sliced in half by an ancient power. An emergent threat. A desperate search. A forgotten promise. On an island of pleasures, where rules don't apply, three women are trapped, three men they don't even know their only chance of escape.
1. Prologue

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**Prologue:Yubikiri**

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Early in the summer, she met a boy in the park.

__

Other little kids filled the playground around her, running and screaming. Thanks to the weekend's Children's Festival, all the neighborhood families had come out today. While their parents all stood around the edges of the park playground, their children ran and played: sliding down slides, overflowing the swings, climbing the monkey bars, and bunching into small groups playing rhyming games where one stood in the middle, and everyone else chanted.

"Kagome, Kagome, the bird in the cage

When will you come out?

In the evening of the dawn,

The crane and turtle slipped.

Who stands right behind you now?"

_It was_ **_that_** _game in particular that sent her into hiding inside the huge wooden structure of tunnels, nets, slides, and other assorted fun things that sat in the middle of the sandlot. She hated that game. It felt like they were making fun of her when they played it; besides, they always wanted her to be the oni. So she wandered underneath the bridge, climbed over the wooden bars and past the twisty silver slide, ignoring the snags and smudges she put into her best dress, and tucked herself into a small hidey-hole near the ground. She wrapped her small arms around her legs and put her knees and put her head down for a good sulk_.

_And that's when she heard the sniffling. Someone was crying_.

_She blinked, and looked around her square little wooden box beneath the stairs. The sound was soft, distant, and echoing, coming from somewhere not too far away. She lifted her dark head and glanced around_.

_She spotted a little dome, just a little way across the waves of dry sand. It had a small opening cut into the side, so that kids could crawl inside and hide. Her eyes and nose scrunched up, her head tipped to the side, and she wondered about the odd sheen that seemed to film the dark entrance; funny how it kept trying to push her eyes in a different direction. It was almost as if the dome didn't want to be seen by anyone_.

_The sniffles were coming from there_.

_She forgot her sulk and awkwardly scooted across the wood until her feet hit the sandy ground. She curled her bare toes into the cool grains, stopping for a moment to be happy that Mama had taken her shoes before she let her go play. Then she stumbled her way across, hoping Mama and Papa wouldn't see her and call her back. Whoever was crying sounded really sad; she just needed to find them and make them feel better_.

_She was a little surprised that she had to push her way inside the dome. It was as if a thick sludge had replaced the air in the entrance, and the sludge was trying to keep her out. Kagome set her small jaw and pushed through anyway_.

_The boy inside was old. Maybe even a lot old -- maybe even as old as eleven or twelve. He sat curled against the other side of the dome, in the shadows beyond the round patch of sunlight shining through the hole in the ceiling, in the same position she'd just taken in her little wooden cubby. His arms hugged his knees to his chest, and his head was buried in his arms. Long, tangled silver hair tumbled down his back and around his body, and his body shook and jerked with each loud, clogged snuffle_.

_At the top of his head, peaking through the dirty pale hair, two small doggy ears hung ragged and nearly lifeless from the top of his head. They twitched, and her eyes got big and round. The boy had animal parts; she knew what animal parts meant. She sucked in a loud breath_.

_His head jerked up. His face was smudged all over with dirt, and tears filled his eyes and streaked his cheeks. Through the sunlight, she could see he had pretty yellow eyes. They stared at her in shock, and the funny black slits in their centers went small and thin. "You… You're a human--how did you get past the spell?! No one's supposed to be able to find me in here_!"

_She stared at him in awe. "You're a youkai." She knew about youkai. Mama said they lived in their own area behind the Barrier, separate from humans, because that's how humans and youkai got along best**. **Mama said things between their races worked out best when they each let the other alone. That's why she'd never seen one before except when Papa watched the news_.

_He jerked one arm up, high above his head, so that she could see the sharp claws on his fingers. His knuckles crackled threateningly and he growled. "GO AWAY!_"

_She stared at him. He stared at her, his claws still suspended in the air. She waited_.

_Angry yellow eyes blinked at her. "Aren't you scared of me?_"

_"Mama said that youkai can be dang--" she hesitated, frowned, concentrated, "dan-ger-us or friendly._"

_He dropped his claws to his side again, his black brows twisting, the anger in his pretty eyes going away just a little as they widened. "And? Aren't you afraid that I'm dangerous_?"

_She blinked wide gray eyes at him, mystified. "Why would a dangerous youkai be playing in the park?" She knew he was safe. She didn't question it. She just knew it_.

_His scowl came back. "I'm not playing. I'm hiding._"

_She nodded. That made sense. She looked at the ceiling, then pursed her lips and looked at him. "I'm hiding, too. Can I hide with you?_"

_For a moment, he looked like was going to tell her no, and she thought she might cry. Her face even scrunched up a little in preparation. Then he looked at her, and his face went soft like Papa's whenever she gave him "the face". He rolled his eyes and shrugged his dirty shoulder. "I don't care what you do._"

_She nodded again and crawled across the sand to sit next to him. She curled up like he was and leaned her head against his side. He tensed up, but slowly relaxed_.

_She looked up at his frowning face. "I'm hiding from the game," she whispered, so that only he would know her secret. She pointed out the opening. "Because of my name. They're making fun of it._"

_He blinked down at her. He cocked his head. "Kagome, Kagome…huh?" He glanced down at her, and his ears twitched. "Is that your name?_"

_"Yep." She giggled, then tugged on his sleeve. "I like your ears," she whispered again. "Are they real?_"

_He stared down at her for a long time, and after a bit, she thought she saw him smile. "Yeah, they're real. You don't think they're weird? Most of the humans who've seen me so far think I'm weird."_

_Kagome shook her head, vigorously. "Nu-uh. They're cute. Can I touch them?_"

_He cringed and pulled away from her. "No."_

_She was disappointed, but she nodded anyway. "Okay. Why are you hiding?_"

_His body jerked again, and the tenseness came back. Then he breathed out and his shoulders slumped. He tucked his chin inside the protection of his arms and stared straight ahead. "My Mom died." His voice was soft, scratchy, broken. "She was human, so they buried her on this side of the Barrier._"

_"Oh." Kagome's face fell as she thought about that, still leaning against him, still feeling safe next to his warm body. She thought about Mama; she thought about never seeing her again, and tears made the inside of the dome and the waves of cool sand beneath them look blurred and damp. "Is that why you were crying?_"

_"I wasn't--" He broke off, then breathed out again, slumping into himself. "Yeah._"

_Kagome rubbed at her eyes with a fist, then sniffed. "Don't worry," she whispered yet again. "I won't tell anybody you were crying. I promise._"

_They didn't say anything else for a long time. They just sat against each other in a dome in the middle of the playground and listened to the squeals and screeches of the children outside_.

_Then the boy's stomach growled. Loudly_.

_Kagome looked up at him. He'd turned his face away, but she thought she could still see red coloring his cheeks. "Are you hungry?_"

_He shrugged, but didn't look at her. His bare toes dug themselves into the sand. "Maybe. It's been a few days since I've eaten._"

_Kagome's eyes rounded. "Really? Why?_"

_The boy turned on her, the anger from earlier in his eyes. "Because I'm not leaving here, okay? I don't want to leave Mom's grave. The humans never wanted her before. Why should they get her now?_ _I don't care what my Dad or my stupid brother say." He turned away again, his voice dropped to a mumble. "It's not right to leave her here_."

_"Oh." She brightened. "Okay. I'll go get you some food. Mama made lots_."

_His head whipped back around in a panic. "Wait! You can't tell anyone I'm here_!"

_She blinked at him. "I can't_?"

_"No." His pretty gold eyes glared at her with determination. "No one can know. It's a secret_!"

_Kagome rolled her eyes to the hole in the ceiling and thought about this for a moment. Then she nodded, looked at him, and brought her pinky finger up to his face. "It's a super-important promise_."

_His brow wrinkled as he stared her up and down. When he didn't move other than that, she grew exasperated and grabbed at one of his hands. He jumped when her small fingers tugged at one of his larger ones, but he let her take it away from his knee. It was only when she started tucking her small, soft fingers between his claws that he snatched it back. "Watch out, you'll hurt yourself, dummy!_"

_Kagome huffed and glared at him. "You're supposed to put your little finger around mine, silly. It's a super-secret promise_."

_"My…." His yellow, cat-slit eyes went wide, his dirty, smudgy face went slack, and he sucked in a breath. "But…that's_ --"

_Kagome gave him an impatient look and held her pinky up insistently. Finally, that pretty red color blooming all over his face, he very gingerly wove the pinky of his right hand around hers_.

_She graced him with a huge grin and lifted their clasped fingers up and down with each beat of her words. "Yu-bi-ki-ri. If you break this promise you'll have to swallow a thousand needles." With a big, matter-of-fact nod, she released his finger, still grinning widely. "See? Now I can't break it. It's forever." She scrambled to her feet. "Wait here. I'll be right back_."

_He grunted, and stared at her with wide eyes as she vanished out the opening_.

_Mama didn't even question her when she came running up, barefoot, filthy, a huge smile on her face, and asked if she could take her bento with her to play. Mama told Papa to watch Souta, who wasn't big enough to play on his own yet, and dug out a small, pink-kerchief-wrapped box_.

_Then she took it back and presented it to him, a proud lift in her small, rounded shoulders. He hesitated, eyed her, then opened it. His tummy grumbled again at the sight of vegetables, meat, and eggs, and he barely bothered with the chopsticks she'd brought along when he started shoveling food into his mouth_.

_Kagome settled on her knees in the sand next to him and watched him. "I'm sorry about your Mom," she said, still a little sad whenever she thought about losing Mama_.

_His eating slowed for a moment, and he stared at her with huge, wounded eyes over the food she'd given him. Then he nodded, and she didn't say anything else._

_After he had licked the last grain of rice off the plastic, he sat and stared before unfolding his body to sit cross-legged, facing her. He held out the empty container_. _"Thanks. It was…good." The sulky note in his voice reminded her of some of the boys in her class, the ones who liked to bully her, but the warmth of real gratitude sparked in his eyes. "I'll--I'll find a way to pay you back_."

_Kagome took it and stared at it, too, lips pursed. "Okay." She knew Mama would be calling her to leave soon, and she felt a funny ache in her chest at the thought of leaving him all alone in the playground. She knew, without knowing how she knew, that no one else would be able to find him here. He would have no one else to play with. "I can…bring you more tomorrow_?"

_Surprise lightened his features, and he shuffled his toes in the sand. "You would do that?_"

_She nodded, and hoped that he would let her, because if he didn't the hurt in her chest was going to get worse_.

_His eyes drifted off to the side as he thought about it. "It doesn't mean you can tell anyone, you know_."

_"I know." She focused large, solemn gray eyes on him. "It's a promise_."

_He lifted his eyes to hers, and she thought she saw a spark of bright, golden hope in them. A tiny, almost invisible smile curled his lips. "Okay. It's a promise_."

_She smiled, sudden and bursting with happiness, and held up her pinky in the space between them once more_.

_He stared at her hand, the same strange look on his face that had been there before. Then, eyes locked with hers and oh-so-serious, he lifted his hand and wrapped the little finger of his right hand around the much smaller one of hers. His grip was firm, and his claw pressed sharp and delicate against her knuckle, but the sensation didn't scare her at all, because to her, he would always be safe_.

_His lips moved and, without making a sound, formed the words along with her sing-song voice._

_Yu-bi-ki-ri_.

I promise.

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	2. Stirrings

**Chapter 1: Stirrings**

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**

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_HUMAN TERRITORIES_

_Tokyo, capital city_

--

"Higurashi-sempai! You have a phone call!"

Kagome jumped, looked up from scratching notes to spot the curly-haired girl wandering (only _slightly_ aimlessly this time) in between the bookshelves, and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She stood, pushing her chair back from the table.

In the corner of her vision field, she caught movement as the shadow of Satoru's dark head craned over the space between their chairs. He was trying to take advantage of her distraction to steal a peak at the open history book in front of her. A hard flick to the forehead with her mechanical pencil, and the teenager jerked back into his seat with a wince. Her gray eyes narrowed into chastising glare, and he gave her a self-conscious shrug in return. She heaved a sigh, and turned her attention back to the young woman. The exasperated rush of breath pushed a few feathery strands of black hair out of her face, and she wished she'd taken the time to secure her hair in a bun instead of the flimsy plastic clip that kept letting it slip loose, no matter how many times she'd redone it throughout the day.

"Ayumi." She kept her voice down, quiet, hoping to catch her co-worker's attention before she shouted again. "You don't have to yell, you know. I told you where we were going to be today."

It worked. Four rows down, Ayumi leaned back to peer around the end of one polished wooden shelf. She smiled and hurried towards the back wall, where Kagome stood among her chosen group of tables, arms crossed and foot tapping. Satoru watched Ayumi walk with undisguised appreciation.

"You told me you'd be on the second floor today. You didn't tell me you'd be sitting at a table instead of in one of the private rooms." Ayumi's volume came down approximately one decibel, and she bumped into a chair that sat at a haphazard angle on the other side of the table. "And I didn't want to go barging into one if you weren't in it. I thought if I was loud enough, you'd hear me and come out on your own."

Kagome winced. "This is a _library_, Ayumi. If the librarians don't follow the rules, how can we expect anyone else to?" She tossed a meaningful look at the teenager sitting next to her, who looked torn between trying to get a peek at the answers and watching the sway of Ayumi's hips in her ridiculously short (and tight) skirt.

Ayumi's pretty dark eyes drifted over the curious boy, then back to Kagome, wide and faintly dewy with chagrin. "I'm sorry. I guess I still have a lot to learn, don't I?"

Kagome barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, and only managed it by giving in to the urge to grin. Ayumi, fresh out of college, was the newest staff addition at Sugawara Memorial Library. By the end of her first week, she'd managed to crash a computer, mis-shelve a bunch of erotica in the arts and crafts section, and didn't yet seem to understand the meaning of the word "whisper". Klutziness notwithstanding, however, Kagome genuinely liked Ayumi; she had a brilliant way with children, an uncanny ability to find things, and a real talent for being useful at the oddest times. Work would probably never be boring again.

Kagome shook her head and gathered up her notes and the history book. "Never mind. We were almost done for the day anyway." The library offered free tutoring courses for children whose parents couldn't afford cram school. Kagome had volunteered to be one of the tutors through the spring. She grinned at the her current student, who now seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the perky bountifulness that was Ayumi's chest. "Satoru needs to study the creation of the Barrier a little more thoroughly before his next test."

Ayumi seemed to perk up even more. "Oh! You're studying Barrier history? Have you gotten to the part where Midoriko-sama falls in love with the enemy youkai?" Her expression grew dreamy and unfocused. "They were willing to start a war for their forbidden love. And when it took their lives, they put up the Barrier to prevent it from ever taking another."

That time, Kagome couldn't prevent her second eye-roll of the day (or an internal giggle that they were both inspired by Ayumi) before she glanced at Satoru. The poor boy looked confused, and maybe a little to willing to believe anything their newest librarian told him. She tapped his forehead again, startling him into shamed blush. "Don't listen to her," she said, exasperated laughter in her voice. "The 'enemy youkai' was actually a large group who took advantage of a human who loved Midoriko, and used him to attack her. The wars had been going on for generations before that, and many people from both races had already died. Right?"

Satoru's brow furrowed and he tore his eyes away from Ayumi and referenced the notebook in front of him. "Uh…right?" The frown intensified as he checked his notes. "The man became a monster, corrupted by the hate of the youkai horde inside him, and the monster and Midoriko fought for seven days and nights without stopping. Then, in her last act, Midoriko harnessed the combined power of human and youkai souls to form the Barrier. Youkai and humans have lived on opposite sides ever since, and contact between the two territories was limited to almost nothing until new trade policies were established about," he flipped a page, "a hundred years ago?"

Kagome let a pleased smile tweak the corners of her mouth. She reached over and flipped the notebook closed. "And, without looking at your notes, why did the Barrier work to stop the wars?"

Satoru hesitated, glancing at Ayumi and blushing again. His fingers fidgeted with his pencil. "Well…. The wars were over two things: land rights across Japan, and the humans' growing ability to defend against and even attack youkai thanks to a greater number of high-class spirituals like Midoriko being born." Another glance at Ayumi, then a pleading look at Kagome. "The Barrier, by forcibly dividing the land, settled the land dispute. It also served as a buffer between the most volatile of the youkai and human races. So the Barrier, in effect, protects the races from each other?" He frowned. "Or maybe it does even more than that, considering the progress that's been made since the trade routes. Maybe, instead of just protecting us, it lets us deal with each other without destroying each other?"

Kagome straightened abruptly, the pleased twitch of her mouth blooming into a delighted smile. "Very good, Satoru. A lot of humans just blame the youkai for the wars, but the humans were just as greedy and violent as the youkai. You'll have to elaborate more on the test, but that's a wonderful answer. It sounds like we made real progress today."

Satoru beamed, and started gathering his papers and books—clumsily, but only because he kept looking at Ayumi rather than at what his hands were doing.

Kagome sighed and cast a wistful glance out a nearby window, at the pink and yellow glow of the Barrier where it skimmed the outskirts of Tokyo; the towering expanse of opaque power had run shore-to-shore across the center of Japan for five hundred years. Five hundred years of nothing—not planes, not cell phones, not the Internet—being able to penetrate from one side to the other. Five hundred years of keeping youkai and humans from any form of regular contact. Five hundred years of only the most guarded, strained kinds of communication. "It's too bad. There's an entire half of our country that most people will never see."

_ And an entire half of our people and traditions that most of us will never know_.

Ayumi murmured in agreement and half-sat on the table. "I've always wanted to visit Hokkaido, but getting a travel pass is almost impossible unless you're from one of the mediating families. And even then, they say that traveling in youkai territory as a normal human is dangerous." Her skirt rode even higher up her thigh, and Satoru dropped his pencil. He bent over to pick it up and banged his head on the table.

The sudden threat of a giggle dispersed her melancholy, and Kagome had to swallow the sound before she scarred the poor boy trying to pretend that he hadn't just bashed his forehead in. She made a mental note to talk to Ayumi about her skirts. And then another one, to maim old man Kotatsu for leaving her with the responsibilities of training the new staff. He had no excuse for taking a vacation now—especially when the woman he left in charge had only been working for a few years herself. "Ayumi? Who's on the phone?"

"Phone? What phone? Oh!" Ayumi hopped off the table as quickly as she'd sat. "It's Houjou-san."

"Houjou?" Something faint and uneasy curled her gut tight. Kagome paused; her eyes drifted out towards the Barrier once more and a faint frown puckered her brow. "Is that so?"

Houjou Eiji. Her boyfriend of over a year now. A smart, handsome, dependable guy. One of her best friends. And every time she thought of him, she was attacked by the oddest, most confusing bouts of anxiety. It had been going on for weeks now—ever since he'd said the words "move in together". Ever since she'd said the word "yes". She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering not for the first time what it meant. _Discomfort_ wasn't what one was supposed to feel at the thought of growing closer to one's boyfriend.

She drew a deep breath and managed a smile. "He probably just has another apartment he wants me to look at. It's the front desk phone, right?" She didn't bother to wait for Ayumi's nod before she gathered up her notes and the history book they'd been studying. "Satoru, make sure to go over the evolution of trade and the water routes around the Barrier, because we're going to be studying it next week. Be careful going home, okay?"

* * *

She was half expecting him to have hung up by the time she'd reached the library's front desk, a massive polished-fake-wood structure that curved half the length of the lobby.

"Kagome. I was beginning to think you were too busy to talk."

Houjou's warm voice filled the line, and a genuine smile flitted over her lips. She set her book and papers down on the counter in front of her and tucked a few more free-flying wisps of black behind her ears. "No, I was just with one of the tutoring students. I'm not the busy one in this relationship, remember?"

Houjou laughed, and something loosened inside her stomach. He had such an easy, inviting laugh; it was one of the first things that had attracted her to him. This time is was vaguely self-deprecating. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. There's a lot of work the partners can't be bothered with around here. If it makes you feel any better, I've been swimming in unfinished briefs and contentions all day. Lots of writing in long, boring lawyer speak."

Kagome's smile became a full-grown grin. She spotted Satoru's black head come bobbing down the stairs, his book bag hanging precariously off one shoulder. "I'll take tutoring students and cataloguing books over writing legal briefs any day, thank you." The teenager gave her a grin and a wave as he passed by the front desk on his way out into the early afternoon sunshine.

"Well, I'm actually free for a couple of hours, so I thought I'd call and ask my pretty girlfriend if she felt like having a late-lunch-slash-early-dinner at a restaurant of her choice?" Kagome could hear Houjou's smile in his voice, could see the warm crinkle around his gentle brown eyes, and she felt a surge of affection. "We could look at some apartment listings I picked up this morning, maybe talk about furniture?"

Her smile faltered as her abdomen tensed, almost as if bracing for a blow. Her fingers rubbed absently at her throat, trying to disperse the guilty ache that threatened to make her voice thin. "Oh, Eiji. As wonderful as that sounds, I already have late lunch plans with Sango and Rin. They'll be here any minute to pick me up, and then I'll be here after we close going over some of the new arrivals."

"Ah. Sounds like we both have late evenings ahead of us. No help for it, then." He sounded disappointed, but not too disappointed. A pause. "Did you get a chance to look at that place I sent you?"

Kagome sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Yes, she'd gotten his e-mail a few days ago; the information about the apartment complex looked ideal. It was located halfway between both their jobs, and still affordable. "Not yet. I'm sorry. I just haven't--"

"No, it's okay. I haven't been around much for the past couple of weeks. It's been nothing but late nights recently." Houjou sighed, and this time she could pick out regret in his tone. "I'm sorry. I know it's been bothering you, and you're right. It's not fair of me to ask you to do this all by yourself. We should be doing it together."

It wasn't that. It really wasn't. She drew a deep breath, suddenly feeling the urge to try and explain, to hash out what she'd been feeling recently. Maybe if they talked about it, she could get over it and get as fully involved in this life event as she should be.

He cut her off before she could even start. "Listen, Kagome. Why don't you go enjoy lunch with the girls and I'll see you later tonight. We can talk more about fixing things then, okay?"

A strange note had entered his voice. It gave Kagome pause to hear him so restrained and serious. Her brow wrinkled. "What do you mean, fixing things?"

"I just think maybe we're doing things backwards. That's all."

Her eyes widened. "Backwards? What are you--"

A large, floppy leather purse plopped down hard onto the table in front of her. The hollow crack of the keys, phone, and other hard objects in the purse hitting fake wood startled Kagome, and she broke off with a gasp.

"Kagome? What's wrong?"

The hand that had slammed the bag down had lovely nails, short and well-kept despite the speckles of blue and white paint dotting its skin and cuticles, and a slim wrist covered in a variety of leather and metal bangles. Her eyes darted up, past the baggy beige button-up, to catch the mischievous grin of a petite, dark-eyed young woman on the patron side of the desk. Rin.

Leaning next to Rin, a casual hip against the counter and her hair swept up in its usual ponytail, was Sango. She wore her standard dress-suit, but it was in a surprising state of disarray: her navy jacket was flung over one arm, the long sleeves of the shirt underneath folded halfway up her arms, and a few undone buttons showed a glimpse of her impressive cleavage. Her detective shield hung conspicuously from her slim belt, though her weapon was nowhere in sight. The smile gracing her lips was more reserved than Rin's, but no less warm or welcoming.

Kagome couldn't help the grin that lit up her face. "Nothing's wrong. Rin and Sango are here."

Rin gave a happy wave and mouthed a curious _who_?

Kagome mouthed back _Houjou_, and Rin and Sango exchanged a knowing glance. She frowned at them.

Houjou's warm chuckle drifted into her head. "Well then, I guess I should let you go before Sango tries to arrest me for obstruction. Go have fun and we'll talk later, okay?"

"But--" The click in her ear told her he couldn't hear her anymore. Pursing her lips, she placed the cradle back in its receiver.

"You know, you really shouldn't frown like that," Rin draped her forearms on the counter and leaned forward. The brilliant aquamarine beads dripping from her neck clacked pleasantly as they hit the surface. "It's bad for your skin."

"And her disposition." Sango laughed and put a hand on her hip. "We all know how she gets when she's cranky. Houjou has a lot to answer for if he's giving you to us cranky."

"Haha, you two. I'm fine." Kagome's grin returned full force as she turned ran her eyes up and down the shorter of the two women. "Welcome back, Rin. You look great."

Rin flipped her wealth of black hair over one shoulder, and did a slow turn, gesturing at the wide leather belt and short, dark brown skirt that completed her outfit for the day. "Don't I? One of the students custom made this belt for me, and this skirt makes my legs look killer."

Kagome sent Sango a questioning look. Sango shrugged. "A week and a half in another country, and she's most excited about the new clothes she bought."

Rin stopped posing and looked offended. "I am not. You should _see_ the sketches I got out of the experience. I'm already working on my next piece!"

Kagome leaned onto the desk, amused. "I take it the art seminar was a success?"

Rin stepped forward so that she was leaning against the desk again. Her dark eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and her make-up choices for the day expertly emphasized their wide, exotic slant. "Oh, Austria is beautiful. And you should have met some of the kids at the college--they were brilliant, Kagome. Creative, sharp, sweet." A frown flickered in her eyes, and her delicate mouth twisted with distaste. "I could have done without some of the art teachers, though. For such a prestigious university, some of their teachers were so rigid and oppressive. Bo-ring."

"Then, I guess those students were lucky to have the great Rin Kowizawa to show them how to break the rigidly imposed rules of convention," Kagome teased, prompting a snicker from Sango.

"All I know is, the next time I have to go international, you two are coming with me, whether you want to or not. It's not nearly as much fun to go shopping in a foreign country when you're alone."

Another look, this one wry, passed from the Librarian to the Detective.

"Yes, because I have such an excess of free time that it would be easy for me to pick up and leave like you did," Sango said, rolling her eyes.

"And I'm made of money, too," Kagome added, stifling a laugh.

"Hey, I wasn't always rich, you know."

"No," Sango agreed. "You just had a rich benefactor who picked you up off the streets, paid for someone to take care of you, and made sure your paintings got shown to the right people, little miss prodigy."

Rin sniffed. "At least I have the ability to appreciate having money, having once had _nothing_. Some people I know like to pretend that they don't have any because they want to stick it to their fathers."

Sango's back visibly stiffened, and Kagome nearly groaned.

_Here we go again_.

"I'm not trying to 'stick it' to my father. I'm just trying to prove that I'm a capable detective apart from the Hoshinuma name. How can I say I'm a success if everyone thinks my father did everything for me?"

"And what's wrong with taking advantage of every opportunity that life gives you? _You_ know you're a good detective--who _cares_ if everyone else thinks you got it because of your father?" Now Rin sounded defensive, and Kagome did groan, softly. They ignored her. "Life's hard enough, isn't it? Why spit in the face of the little bit of luck that comes your way?"

"Little? You call what happened to you a 'little bit' of luck?" Sango's soft brown gaze flashed in challenge. "Besides, I believe in making my own luck."

"Yeah, well...sometimes life doesn't let you make your own luck, Sango."

The hollow tone in Rin's voice brought Sango to a screeching halt, and for a moment, silence reigned over the library reception desk.

Sango blinked. The stiffness leeched from her back and the fire abruptly died from her eyes. She sighed. "Oh, Rin, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up ugly memories. That's a terrible way for me to welcome you home." She flipped her bangs away from her forehead, the gesture a tell-tale sign of repentance. "It's been…a long day. I shouldn't have let it bleed all over you."

Rin's smile was soft. "For me too. I didn't mean to attack. You know how much I respect you." A wispy sigh drifted past her lips before they twisted into a sheepish grin. "And anyway, our issues were just tailor-made to clash, weren't they?"

"Only on the bad days." Sango offered her own grin in return.

With a sigh of relief, Kagome glanced askance at the ceiling and pulled the clip from her hair. "I have an idea." The black waves fell free around her shoulders, and she massaged at her scalp with her fingertips. "Why don't we shelve your respective issues and take advantage of lunch instead? I put off my break for two and a half hours waiting for you to get here, and I'm starving."

Sango shifted, straightening away from the desk. "Great idea. I'd rather talk about your issues anyway. What was that about going backwards?"

"She's right. I have a car waiting for us outside. And reservations at Angelus, as promised." Rin slung her floppy leather bag over her shoulder, and lifted a slim brow. "I had to bribe a few people to make sure they'd have our favorite table ready for us, so let's not keep them waiting."

Kagome took a deep breath and let some of her tension seep out of her. She turned and flagged down the attention of a co-worker who'd stepped out from the back to collect the latest pile of returns. "I'm taking my lunch break now. I'll be back to help with the cataloguing in a few hours, all right? You're in charge of Ayumi until then."

Then, with a cheerful wave to the dismayed older woman, Kagome grabbed her purse and disappeared out the doors with her friends.

* * *

The Painter, The Detective, and The Librarian. During college, it had become a great joke between them to make up elaborate stories about how three women with such different backgrounds, plans, and dreams had come to be such close friends. In reality, it had been very simple: Rin had wanted roommates while she pursued a liberal arts degree, and because of how well her paintings were selling even back then, she hadn't needed money. A lucky coincidence had seen them all in the same hallway looking for the same thing at the same time, and Kagome and Sango had joined her, cheap, in a house that was barely ten minutes away from the college they'd all attended.

In spite of, or maybe even because of, their differences, they'd grown very close in the years they'd spent living together. So close that they'd kept in touch even after graduation had them going off in separate directions--Sango into the police force, Rin to fully immerse herself into the world of galleries and art shows, and Kagome to Sugawara Memorial.

Angelus had been their favorite place to eat together for six years. They'd stumbled onto it while looking to celebrate passing a round of particularly difficult tests in their respective fields. It was a seafood restaurant that sat right on top of the coast, and featured seafood dishes prepared in styles from around the world. It also boasted an entire wall of glass, so that no matter where the patrons sat, they had a clear, magnificent view of the waves. The girls' favorite table sat right in the most secluded corner: thick, impenetrable wall on one side, potted plants blocking out the rest of the restaurant on another, and the most beautiful scenery of coastal wildlife right in front of them.

Thanks to the mid-afternoon lull, they had Angelus mostly to themselves.

"He wants to fix things?" Sango rested her chin in her hands and stared out at the water lapping against the rocks. "You're moving in together, aren't you? What's there to fix?"

Rin sipped from her water glass. "Sounds to me as if he's picked up on your cold feet."

Kagome lowered her eyes to her plate and picked at her half-eaten salmon. "I don't have cold feet, exactly. We've been dating for over a year now, so moving in together is only natural."

Rin raised her eyebrows. "And that has what to do with anything? Kagome, it's been three weeks. You haven't told your mother. You haven't started packing or making any plans. You haven't even looked at apartments yet." She leaned forward and lowered her voice, her brow puckering with concern. "Kagome, you've told us how you've been feeling, remember?"

"I…." She bit her lip, uncertain how to respond.

"We're just worried that you're going to force yourself to do something you're not ready for, that's all," Sango said, running an absent finger along the rim of her wine glass. "Shouldn't you be excited, not afraid?"

"I wouldn't call it afraid. More like--" Kagome closed her eyes and slumped back into her chair. "I don't understand it, either. I shouldn't be having a problem with this. For all of the last year, I've been perfectly content with Houjou. This is the first time I've ever felt like this."

"That's because this is the first time it's ever been serious. With anyone, if you'll recall." Sango looked solemn. "Kagome, you realize that moving in with him will basically be the same as agreeing to marry him in the eyes of the community, don't you? As much as you might like to pretend it doesn't matter, you are a high-class spiritual, and your family has run the Higurashi shrine for generations. It'll just be expected by everyone who knows you." Her tone shifted subtly, went a shade dry. "In fact, if you're not careful, your mother and grandfather might even start planning your wedding without you."

"I…I know." The word _marriage_ formed a knot of something harsh and adrenaline-laced in her throat, but she ignored it with a faint sense of shame. It couldn't just be that she was avoiding commitment. She knew herself better than that; she wasn't that fickle. Something else had to be going on, something that she hadn't been able to identify yet. It _had_ to.

Her fingers twisted together in her lap, her grip so tight that her nails went white around the edges. The small finger on her right hand began to tingle and itch, and she rubbed at it with her thumb. "But that's what I don't understand. The thought of being married to him shouldn't bother me at all. I'm twenty-five. It's time I started thinking about it, anyway, and I _like_ being with Houjou. He's sweet and gentle, and understanding--"

"And perfect. Yes, we know. Boring." Rin licked some buttery sauce off the tines of her fork. She hesitated a moment, dark eyes flitting towards Kagome from the corners of her eyes. "Something's been bothering me for a while now. If you two are so close, why do you still call him Houjou? That's his family name."

Kagome frowned. "I call him Eiji."

Rin stuck a fork-full of crab cake into her mouth and tilted her head at her friend. "To his face, yes. But to everyone else, _including yourself_, you still call him Houjou. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"I don't know." Kagome felt that curl of unease tighten her stomach again, and she plucked up a soft roll, hoping to calm the feeling. "It's like a little game with us. Sometimes I'll slip and call him Houjou, and he'll laugh and call me Higurashi."

"_Sometimes you slip_?" Rin rolled her eyes, and her obvious concern fell away for a moment of pure exasperation. "Jeez. Do you two even _have_ sex anymore?"

Kagome choked on her bread. "Rin!"

Sango hid a smile behind her wine glass, but Rin completely ignored her. "It is kind of surprising that you're moving in together, though. Houjou's so proper and respectable that I'm a little surprised he didn't just--" Her eyes widened and her lips parted into a stunned little "oh". She put her fork down and let her gaze drift from Kagome, to Sango, and back again.

Sango frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I think I just figured out what he thinks is going backwards."

They stared across the pristine white of the tablecloth for a long, silent moment. Sango understood first, and her brown eyes rounded. "You think he's going to ask her to marry him?"

"Makes sense doesn't it? That would certainly fix things, especially considering Kagome's official status. It'd be the same for you, Sango. Wouldn't it be some huge dishonor if the only daughter of the Hoshinuma family tried to live with some guy before you married him?"

A tiny wrinkle developed in the skin between Sango's dark eyebrows. "I…really don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Not until you get over your fear of men, anyway," Rin agreed, a tiny smile playing on her lips to take the sting from her words.

"I'm not _afraid_ of men. I'm just not very impressed by them."

Kagome just sat in her chair, stunned, and let the moment of comfortable back-and-forth teasing flow over her. Her mind buzzed with some kind of urgent energy, going over the phone conversation earlier. Could Houjou really be planning on proposing? Why, when he'd just asked her to live with him? Just because she was a miko? But he'd known that for years, even before they'd become a couple.

Thanks to the Barrier and the history that had produced it, the Japanese government had long ago started a special program to locate and instruct any humans born with spiritual talent. It was necessary, they felt, to have a comprehensive list of those humans who could defend them should the youkai government ever become a threat again. After the water trade routes had opened up more interaction between the two species, the testing, schooling, and tracking had become even more important.

Kagome had been tested for spiritual talent just like every other child in kindergarten. Most of her friends had been labeled non-spirituals, with maybe one or two low to mid-class spirituals in the group. That the child of the Higurashi shrine keeper's bloodline would have a modicum of spiritual power had been expected. But the monk who had tested her had taken one very long, puzzled look at her and declared her a high-class. Instead of the few extra tutoring classes their family had expected, Kagome had been immediately enrolled in the special schooling track required for everyone of her rare designation. Jii-chan had literally thrown a community party at the shrine to celebrate, and even though Kagome's power had never really manifested as forcefully as her classification would suggest, Jii-chan still told everyone who would listen about the strong spiritual heritage of the Higurashi family. Including any potential boyfriends.

So, Houjou knew all about her high spiritual status. He understood that, even though her powers weren't that impressive, it was still something that would follow her for her entire life, and he'd never seemed bothered by the fact. She'd told him more than once how glad she was that she'd never manifested, and thus hadn't been trapped into a government position where her powers would be used for someone else's political gain, as the high-class often were. Houjou knew she was content in performing her intermittent shrine duties, and happy that no one had paid very much attention to her, status or no.

Why would that change anything at all between them?

"So, what will you do, Kagome?"

Kagome startled and looked up from her half-empty plate. Rin and Sango stared at her over their own mostly-finished dishes. She blinked at them. "What?"

Sango set her fork down with a pleasant clink. "What will you do if he asks you to marry him tonight?"

Rin shifted in her seat, crossing her legs and her arms, her features clouded with concern. "I don't think it would be smart to rush into anything, especially considering how conflicted she's been over just moving into the same house as him. I'm just not sure Houjou's the right choice."

"But she's already been with him for over a year. And by her own admission, he's a good man, from a good family. He'd probably make a good husband and a wonderful father. If she really wants to get married and have children like she's always said, wouldn't he be a good choice?"

Yes. Of course he would. And she loved him. She did.

So why did everything inside her feel so reluctant?

* * *

They finished up and paid their bills, quietly chatting about harmless and mundane things as they headed out to the parking lot, where Rin's car had been parked and waiting for them since they'd arrived.

"Well, if it isn't three lovely sirens, coming in from the sea. If you ladies were singing, I believe my life would be forfeit."

All three women jumped at the smooth, pleasant voice that called out to them, but it was Sango who groaned before she turned to face the man on the sidewalk behind them. "Sakurai. What are you doing here?"

Kagome frowned as something niggled at her brain. _Sakurai? Where have I heard that name before_?

"Sango, Sango, Sango. How many times must I bid you call me Miroku?"

"Probably as many times as I must _bid_ _you_ to call me Hoshinuma?"

Standing slightly behind Sango, seeing her stiff back and the proud set of her shoulders, Kagome sent a questioning glance to Rin, who shrugged. The man in front of Sango held himself with an easy, casual grace, body relaxed and hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. His dark suit jacket was off, slung over one arm in deference to the heat of the day, and the crisp cotton of his dress shirt had a few buttons open at the throat. His hair--thick and black and longish--was gathered into a small tail at the nape of his neck.

Sakurai seemed pleased with Sango's answer, because a faint smile pulled at his mouth. "Is that any way to talk to your government liaison, Detective Sango?"

Kagome and Rin shared another glance, this one speaking. They'd only heard about one government liaison in Sango's life recently, and none of it had been anything good.

"Sure it is, when he's being a pig." Sango shifted and sighed, one hand going to her hip, irritation dripping from her voice. "I repeat, Sakurai, what are you doing here?"

His eyebrows lifted slightly, but his gaze went and stayed glued to the hip Sango had so thoughtfully put on display for him. "Having lunch of course. What else does one do at a restaurant?" He paused and glanced down at the _very_ expensive-looking watch on his wrist. The small silver hoops in his ears, one his left lobe, two in his right, glinted in the sunlight. His expression grew rueful. "Or maybe we should call it an early dinner."

"Alone? I'm shocked."

This time, Kagome's jaw dropped and Rin's eyes got so big they should have popped right out of her head. Sango hadn't just sounded sarcastic and derisive. She'd sounded _jealous_. Sango didn't get _jealous_. Ever. Especially not when it came to men. She'd been immune to masculine seduction—and many, many men had tried—for as long as they'd known her. The tension crackling in the air between the two was not only palpable, it was unprecedented.

Sango noticed them staring at her, and a shade of embarrassment flickered across her face. She shifted again, dropped the defensiveness of her stance.

Sakurai had obviously picked up on the jealousy too, because his grin widened. "I don't have to be. Care to join me, lovely Sango?"

Sango's eyes narrowed. "I'm not in the habit of spending my afternoons with perverts. Besides, I've just eaten, in case you hadn't noticed me _leaving._"

"No one said you have to eat." For a moment, he looked serious and sounded utterly reasonable. "All you'd have to do is sit there and let me enjoy the beauty of your company. We could talk about something other than which youkai lord is visiting the capital next week."

For a moment, Sango actually looked uncertain. "I don't think…."

"You would be doing me a favor." He smiled another calm, harmless smile. "I'm certain my food would taste so much better with a--" his eyes flicked, ever so briefly, over the women standing beside her, "--with three lovely ladies around."

"I'm not sure that--wait, _three_ lovely ladies?" Sango's eyes widened, then shut tightly as her fists clenched.

Kagome could swear she saw a vein popping in the side of her head, and was suddenly afraid for the man in front of them. Sango might not possess an ounce of spiritual talent, but she came from a family famed for the success of its combat techniques against both human and youkai enemies. And she was well-trained in all of them.

"Listen, you insufferable--" Sango's lips slammed into a thin line and she opened her eyes to glare at him for a moment. Then she drew a deep, calming breath, but her foot started tapping as she continued in a more controlled tone. "Make a move on my friends, Sakurai, and I'll throw you in a cell with some life-timers and tell them stories of your amazing sexual prowess. And I'm not talking women, here."

The look that crossed his face was somewhere between amusement and rueful. One of his hands slipped from his pocket, and the shockingly casual sandals on his feet started edging forward. "Honestly, Sango. I'm a holy man. How can you doubt that my intentions are anything less than pure?"

"Touch _me_, and I'll impair your ability to have children." Unfazed by his alarmed look or his hastily retracted hand, she crossed her arms. "And I doubt you've had a pure thought since the genetics kicked in at puberty." She lifted her eyebrows at him. "We grew up in the same circles, remember? I know your family's reputation."

Miroku grimaced. "Yes, well, unfortunately, sometimes rumors are--"

Rin cleared her throat. Loudly. Both Sango and Sakurai turned to stare at the petite young woman who'd interrupted them.

Rin gave them zero notice and a polite smile, the near-black of her eyes locked on to Sakurai. "And you would be…?"

Sakurai finally managed to pull his attention away from Sango long enough to smile at the two women standing behind her. He stepped forward and swept a low bow. "I, my dear woman, am Sakurai Miroku, son and heir of the Sakurai family, and currently government liaison for the human mediator families." He straightened and nodded at Sango. "Detective Sango and I have been working together on certain security issues related to the Prime Minister and his youkai guests. And, if you don't mind my returning the question, who are you two lovely ladies?"

Rin bowed respectfully. "I am Kowizawa Rin. An old college friend of Sango's."

That was enough to give him pause. "Kowizawa?" He blinked, then stepped to the side around Sango, taking a closer, more attentive look at her. Sango eyed him suspiciously, but he kept his hands firmly in his pockets. "Not Kowizawa Rin the artist? Master blender of the romantic, the magical real, and the surreal? The child prodigy whose last painting sold for a tidy six hundred million yen on auction?"

A grin flashed across her face. "Yeah. That was for charity, though. You know something about art, I see, since I'm not really that famous outside of the community."

"I should," he said dryly. "It was my mother who paid that six hundred million." He smiled, but it looked a little pained. "She put my father in the hospital with that one." He sighed and bowed once again. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Kowizawa-sama."

"Rin, if you please. The sama reminds me of a gallery owner who once tried to flatter me into a seventy-thirty commission." She made a face. "I'm young, not stupid."

"A foolish man indeed. I would have gone for no more than sixty-forty." He nodded at Rin's amused expression. "And you may call me Miroku." He glance at Sango. "All of you." His eyes turned to with intent on Kagome, and she realized with a jolt that his eyes weren't just dark--they were a very deep, very unique violet. Quite striking, actually. "If you don't mind."

She couldn't help but smile and bowed her head in a polite greeting. "Higurashi Kagome. Close personal friend of the woman you work with. Kagome is fine."

"Excellent. I don't suppose you could help me convince your close, personal friend that I'm not nearly as bad as she seems to think I am?" But before Kagome could even think to answer, a strange expression flickered across his face. "Higurashi…. I've heard that name before." He stepped back and gave her the same deep, searching look he'd given Rin. He blinked, then tipped his head. "You're a high-class."

And it came to her, where she'd heard the name Sakurai. She snapped her fingers. "Ah! Sakurai as in the monk Miyatsu?"

"My grandfather." Miroku's face cleared quite as suddenly as Kagome's had. "I see. You're the high-class he could never quite read properly, aren't you? The one who lived at the shrine?"

She nodded. "It was the monk Miyatsu of the family Sakurai who first tested me as a high-class, back in kindergarten," she explained to her friends. "You're a monk as well, then?"

"Yes. High-class spirituals run in our family. It's one of the things that makes us so good at mediating between the territories. It's an honor to meet, in person, one of the only women to ever confound my grandfather's spiritual sense, Kagome. Trust me when I say that it is quite a feat. Tell me, did they ever figure you out?"

Kagome gave him a cheerful, uninhibited grin. "Nope. I graduated just fine, and I can perform all the basic spells and sutras, and even put out a strong barrier, but my skills have remained undirected. Since I never manifested talent strongly enough for them to lock me into a special position, they weren't sure what else to do with me, and I was let loose with all the other medium-classes. I don't do much more than serve at my family's shrine these days."

"I shall be sure to tell my grandfather. He'll be pleased to hear he wasn't the only one who had trouble with you." The violet eyes turned back to Sango, who'd watched him carefully throughout the self-introductions, and his voice chided--gently, affectionately. "My sweet Sango, I never knew you had such fascinating friends."

To Kagome's shock and Rin's obvious delight, a soft, glowing blush spread over Sango's cheeks. "My friends are none of your business, Miroku."

Something deep and intense flickered in his eyes when she said his name. He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze tracing over her features, lingering on her pink skin. "No. I suppose they're not."

Kagome could have sworn she heard regret in his tone.

Then he took a deep breath and seemed to give himself a mental shake. "It's been quite the pleasure meeting you ladies, but if you'll excuse me, I'm actually here for a business meeting, and I do believe I'm late. Detective," he nodded, briskly. "I'll see you tomorrow." He bowed once more, then turned and sauntered towards Angelus's entrance.

They watched him disappear inside, then, as one, Kagome and Rin rounded on Sango.

Rin put her hands on her hips. "_That's_ Sakurai? The guy who's been plaguing you for the past month? _That's_ the lecherous jerk you have to clobber on a daily basis? _That's_ the weirdo who grabbed your butt the first time he met you?"

"Yes. What about it?" Sango turned on a heel and marched for the parking lot. Quickly. Her hair bouncing in its ponytail.

"Hey, wait!" Rin scampered after her, her high heels clopping against the asphalt, and Kagome was right behind her. "What was that all about, anyway?"

"Nothing. He just likes to bother me every chance he gets." Sango didn't stop, and she didn't look back.

"Oh, we could tell he bothers you all right." They reached the car; the driver started to get out to open the door for them, but Rin waved him back. "What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I can't stand him, remember?"

Kagome lifted her brows. "Sango, he was practically eating you with his eyes. You can't tell us there was nothing there. We saw it."

"So what? He does that with every woman he meets."

"He barely looked at Rin and me."

"I don't really care who he was looking at, so it's not important one way or the other."

"Wait." Rin threw up her hands, disbelief in her voice. "Are you trying to tell us that he's not _really _interested in you? Or are you trying to tell us that _you're_ not interested in _him_? Because I have to know which argument I'm shooting down before I start firing."

Sango finally turned to face them, setting a hip against the sleek black side of the car. "I'm trying to tell you it doesn't matter, one way or the other. Do you know the Sakurai men are famous for their womanizing? _All_ of them? They say that the current head of the family, that monk Miyatsu you were talking about, has a different girl in his private rooms every night. _He's seventy-nine years old_!"

"So his grandfather is a virile old man. So what? I'd consider that a mark in his favor." Rin shook her head. "Even if he is just a womanizer, he obviously wants to womanize _you_ right now, and you're more than obviously attracted right back. If he's not suited for anything more than a fling, then just have a fling." Her tiny, mischievous grin was back. "Someone with experience doesn't seem like a bad choice for someone without any. And don't you think it's about time?"

Sango's face went violently red. "Stop it, Rin. Just stop it. It's not going to happen, okay? I'm not going to be one of that guy's many." Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her purse, her grip so tight the leather strained against the cloth of her jacket. "It doesn't matter anyway."

Kagome studied her for a moment. She couldn't get her mind off the way Miroku had looked at Sango when she'd said his name, or the regret in his voice before he'd walked away. "I don't know, Sango. I think it might be more than a simple case of want."

But her head was already shaking, her mouth a thin, straight line, her brown eyes blank. "I'm telling you it doesn't matter." She turned her back again and her hand gripped the door handle. "Not anymore."

An odd note in her voice got to them, and Kagome glanced at Rin. The smaller woman had lost her impish glee and was eyeing Sango with worry. Kagome bit her lip. "Is…is something wrong?"

Sango sucked in a long, soft breath before she offered them both a weak smile over her shoulder. "It's just been a…really long day, that's all. I think it's starting to get to me." A soft clack, and the door opened. "Let's just go, okay?"

She climbed in first and they hesitated only a moment before sliding in after her and settling into the buttery leather seats.

* * *

A few cars down, sitting in a vehicle that idled with a sweet, near-silent hum, he waited, occasionally slicking sweat away from his bald head and cursing the need to keep the window open to eavesdrop. And, of course, he watched.

He cursed again when the girls' ride pulled out of its parking spot. After a moment of brief indecision, he put the car into drive and pulled out after them into the late afternoon traffic. He made sure to keep far enough away to be inconspicuous, but just close enough to keep it in sight. And he waited for his phone to ring.

Which it did, several moments later. He snatched it up from the seat next to him. "Did you get them?"

"The pictures?" The voice on the other end, younger than his, brash and arrogant, laughed. "Of course I did. Modern technology is a wonder, isn't it? All you need is a camera phone and a good angle and viola, instant portrait. They are beautiful. All three."

"Considering the situation, I thought you'd be interested, Aniki."

"Considering the situation, you did pretty fucking good. They'll do quite nicely to fill the quota. And here I was starting to worry that we'd fall short. What do you know about them?"

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "That's where the problem might be. One of them is a fairly well-known painter. Kowizawa Rin."

"Hmm. Never heard of her, so she's not world-famous. She'll be okay. Everybody knows artists are eccentric, right? What about the others?"

He smiled, and negotiated into the right lane, following the black car ahead of him. "A police detective, from one of the older families in the city. Hoshinuma Sango."

A hesitation over the line. "The Hoshinuma family? They might be a problem. We don't want to draw too much attention. Not now."

"She's untouched."

A rush of sucked-in breath over the line. "A virgin? Damn. I didn't think many of those still existed over the age of sixteen. The price on a prize like that would be worth attracting the eyes of an old family." Some shuffling over the line, and some muffled shouting. "Okay, I'm having Jak check it out. If there's any strife between her and her family, we can pull it off. What about the third one?"

"Higurashi Kagome." He paused, savoring the moment. "She's a high-class."

A low whistle filled his ear. Then suspicion. "Renkotsu. Tell me you found a high-class that's not in a prominent government position. Because a government high-class is going to take more effort than we have time to put in."

"From what I was able to overhear during their dinner, she's a librarian and a part-time shrine maiden."

A hiss, and another low laugh. "What's her specialty?"

"She hasn't got one. Her power sounds like it's high mid-class at the most."

"A mid-class labeled as a high-class?" He whistled. " An easy handle with a high price. I might actually be impressed."

He could almost hear the thoughts turning over each other on the line as the silence stretched. "Bank?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm following them now. What do you want me to do?"

"Keep following them. I'm sending Mukostu and Ginkotsu out now, so call me if they split up. If this pans out, we'll have to grab them immediately. I'll call you back in an hour." Another pause. "Renkotsu. If this is as good as it sounds, Mimisenri will be very happy. And we'll be very rich. Your cut will be pretty significant for finding them."

He smiled again, his eyes barely leaving the car in front of him long enough to drive straight. "I know."

%%%%%%%%


	3. Whispers

**Chapter 2: Secret Whispers**

**

* * *

  
**

The cool air of Angelus's interior washed over Miroku as he pushed inside, but he barely noticed the change in atmosphere.

_Sango_. His mind dwelled on her, whispering her name like the soft song of the sirens he'd accused the women of being. That was no surprise; his encounters with the lovely Detective Sango always left him faintly confounded. He was never sure whether to be amused or offended at her continued, sometimes violent rebuff of his advances. Even more confounding? He enjoyed them—them, and every self-righteous huff, expressive gesture and irritated twitch that moved the fine detective's delectable body.

For the past month, they'd been working closely together on security issues for the upcoming trade expansion talks between the youkai and human governments--her as lead police detective, he as government liaison for the loosely networked human mediator families. It was a position he'd balked at initially; playing babysitter for visiting youkai dignitaries, even if it was part of an effort to open up interaction between the two species, was not his standard modus operandi. He was used to having the freedom of a lone agent, with the privilege of easy movement between the territories. He preferred it that way. Still, he was flexible, and his father had deemed him the only one for the job, so he'd settled in for a long, slightly boring stint in the capital.

He'd changed his mind when he'd walked into his temporary government office and met his contact: the leggy, short-skirted, luscious Detective Hoshinuma. She was, he'd realized after only a few days, damn good at her job: sharp, reliable and with good instincts, besides being sexy as everything in every level of hell. She was also a strong woman, as he'd found out after more than one close meeting with her right hook. A jewel quite befitting of the Hoshinuma name, and Miroku had found himself quite thoroughly in lust and not nearly as unamused as he'd expected to be on this particular assignment.

It was just such a shame that she didn't seem willing to oblige him with anything more than some verbal sparring. He knew she was interested; that adorable pink blush colored her cheeks every time he threw even a hint of a tease at her. She was just so damn _stubborn_. Which was also, interestingly enough, a characteristic of the Hoshinuma family.

A droll smile quirked the edges of his mouth as he glanced around the restaurant's interior.

"Can I help you, sir?"

He blinked at the host, a young man with a polite smile, a nice dress jacket, and polished shoes, and gave a polite nod in return. "My name is Sakurai. I'm meeting someone here."

The young man's face lit up in recognition and…relief? "Ah, yes. Takeda-san has already arrived and is waiting at your table."

The name brushed over him with a wisp of surprise. "Takeda?"

"Yes." The host swept a low bow. "Please follow me, Sakurai-san."

Plagued by a sudden suspicion, Miroku obediently followed the host through Angelus's lush interior, past potted greenery and sleek white columns, and always with the spectacular view of the ocean just beyond the windows. Miroku had always liked Angelus for the relative privacy it afforded its guests; for all its openness to the water and the coast, the interior décor was scattered about in a pleasant arrangement that granted its customers a certain amount seclusion no matter where they sat. Perfect for discreet business meetings, especially those called a mere hour in advance by one's father. Of course, usually one expected surprise meetings called by one's father to be _attended_ by one's father.

So why was he meeting with a member of the Takeda family?

They passed by another column, and Miroku spotted the Takeda in question, sitting in a rounded booth against the back wall. His expensive suite was in disarray, as usual, and he was cheerfully feeding a tasty-looking morsel to the tiny white monkey sitting on his shoulder.

Miroku sighed. "Nobunaga, huh?"

Just as they came into view, Takeda looked up and caught sight of them, and his young, earnest features lifted in a welcoming smile. He stood and waved, the action so quick that if he had been sitting in a chair, it would have gone tumbling over.

"Sakurai-san! Over here!"

Miroku noticed the half-flinch from the host, and smiled. "My compliments on the choice of location," he murmured, lifting a hand to wave back. "It was very wise of you to choose such a sturdy…er, setting."

The younger man turned his head and offered a wan smile back. "We sat him at a table first, but he managed to knock over his chair three times and trip two servers in the span of ten minutes. We thought, perhaps, moving to a less-traveled area would be best for this particular customer."

Miroku allowed himself a chuckle. "Yes, very wise indeed. And…the monkey?"

The host gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Seeing as how this is the Prime Minister's nephew, we thought it best not to object. And, as it turns out, the monkey has actually managed to prevent him from breaking a few dishes, so he is more than welcome."

"Just as well. You would have had a hard time separating Nobunaga from Hyoshimaru." Giving a little shake of his head, Miroku stopped and bowed to the host, letting him know that he needed no further assistance. "My thanks."

His escort nodded and headed gratefully back for the front, and Miroku took a deep breath and called up a reserve of patience for the young man currently babbling from the booth.

"Sakurai-san! Thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope you don't mind," he gestured at the array of steaming dishes arranged on the table. "I've taken the liberty of ordering some food."

"Nobunaga. Hyoshimaru." Miroku gave a brief bow in greeting to both the man and the monkey (who stared at him with bug eyes while chomping on another piece of meat), then slid into the other end of the booth. He looked over the seafood carefully before taking a few helpings for his empty plate. "The food is quite acceptable, thank you. How is your family? Is your father well?"

Nobunaga laughed and ran a self-conscious hand through the neatly cut black strands of his hair. "My mother is quite well, thank you, and my father is due out of the hospital any day now." He looked vaguely sheepish. "It was only a trip down the stairs, after all. Barely anything broke anyway. However…." He drew a deep breath and bowed low over the table. "Uncle sends his greatest respects to the Sakurai family, as well as all the mediator families for whom they act."

Miroku's chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth; he felt his smile stiffen just a bit, and had to force it to relax. "On behalf of the mediator families, the Sakurai thank the Prime Minister for his respects, and extend our own."

Nobunaga nodded, his brow tensing uncomfortably. "Given the state of the relationship between the government and the mediators, I thank you for that, Sakurai-san. It means very much to us that the mediators continue to work with Uncle's administration."

Nobunaga's uncle, Seikai Takeda, was in his second term as Prime Minister of the Human Territories of Japan. He was also at political odds with the mediator families. The Takeda administration had always been a bit hesitant in regards to opening interaction with the Youkai Territories; still, the mediators and the government had managed to work together despite their differences. Takeda's re-election, however, had made him arrogant, and the restrictions regarding youkai visitors and goods had been steadily increasing in recent years.

The real break between the administration and the mediators had come early the previous year. The mediator families had announced the upcoming trade talks, lauding them as an opportunity to increase the cooperation of a Japan too long divided. To them, brokering agreement from both sides had represented the epitome of generations of effort.

Prime Minister Takeda had balked. His administration's attitude had taken a radical turn towards hostility, despite high public support for the talks on both sides of the Barrier. This, in turn, had led to a heavy strain on territorial relations that had only begun to improve in the past few decades. Needless to say, the mediators were displeased, and the strife between the centuries-old mediator families and the popular, though increasingly anti-youkai, Prime Minister was the subject of mass speculation, both public and private.

Miroku sighed, feeling a bit wry. "The tradition of collaboration between the mediators and the governments is still honored for a reason. For now, at least, the mediators see more benefit in dealing with the Prime Minister than in openly warring against him."

"Yes. Again, I thank you and your family on behalf of me and mine. And as always, you have our full support." Nobunaga folded his hands and bowed his head low over the table. "As long as we continue to work together, we have a chance of changing Uncle's mind about the trade expansion. I know it."

Miroku sat back and gave the younger man across from him an appraising look. Either Nobunaga had deliberately called the old friendship between the Sakurai and Nobunaga's branch of the Takeda into play as a shrewd political ploy, or the thanks had been a genuine, openhearted acknowledgement of their families' mutual history. Knowing Nobunaga as he did, he was inclined to think it the latter.

Nobunaga's family was an offshoot of the Takedas, apart from the main branch and only distantly influential with the Prime Minister; but it was Nobunaga's family, and their inherent purity of heart, who had won Seikai Takeda mediator support during his first term. In the current political climate, Nobunaga's branch was the only thing that kept the mediators from throwing their political heft in direct opposition of the Takeda administration, despite its recent aggressiveness towards the mediator cause. And Takeda knew it, which was why he always sent either Nobunaga or his father to meet with mediator representatives.

A gentle, genuine smile quirked the edges of his mouth. "It's too bad, Nobunaga, that you are only an aide. The process would benefit greatly from having someone with your spirit in charge."

The response from across the table was a grin. "Don't worry. I may be only an aide, but I'll still do what I can to help reunite the territories. Opening up the borders and expanding trade on the water routes will give all of Japan greater autonomy than it has ever had before." His dark eyes glinted with enthusiasm. "Imagine, not having to pay the exorbitant export fees to route goods and communications through mainland China. Imagine allowing youkai tourists to travel the Human Territories as freely as the humans would like to do with the Youkai Territories."

Miroku's mouth quirked up again. "The Youkai Territories are very dangerous, Nobunaga. The laws and traditions over there are very different from our own."

"All the more reason to explore and understand them!" Two spots of high, bright color shone in his cheeks at the thought.

"You have high expectations from mere trade talks, Nobunaga." Still, Miroku was amused. For all his apparent idiocy and clumsiness, Nobunaga was one of the most sincere, unaffected people that Miroku had ever met. In the world they lived in, where most put up facades and plotted and grabbed selfishly at whatever they could get, his very presence was refreshing.

And that thought, of course, brought him back to the reason he was sitting in a restaurant with a hapless young man instead of enticing his reluctant detective into a dinner date. He set his chopsticks down and rested his fingertips together. "Not that I'm not enjoying the delicious meal, but I am curious to know why I am eating it with a Takeda aide when it was my father who called me here?"

The smile dropped away from Nobunaga's face. The somber, almost guarded look that replaced it startled Miroku. Nobunaga set down his chopsticks and pushed his plate to Hyoshimaru, who chirped happily at the half-eaten offering, then reached down and lifted a dark briefcase up onto the table from the seat beside him. "Ah. Yes, well, your father is actually with Uncle at the moment, and he will stay there until he is relieved by Monk Miyatsu, who should be in the capital within the hour."

Miroku felt a dark shadow of concern settle in his chest as he watched the younger man fiddle with the case's combination lock. A faint tension drew the muscles of his back and face tight. "And why," he drew out, "is my grandfather is coming to Tokyo?" Monk Miyatsu detested the city; he preferred to spend the majority of his time at the main family estates near Mt. Fuji, and only came into the city when something significant required him to be there.

"Well--" The briefcase popped open. The papers inside, of course, scattered all over the table. "Ah!" Nobunaga jumped to assemble the papers in some form of order.

Miroku watched him calmly, impatience bubbling up from his gut. He drew a deep breath and sighed it out in a conscious effort to release his tension, then plucked up one of the papers from the table. The official mediator seal on the front caught his eye. It was a signed contract giving him the right to speak and act as a representative of the mediator families…and granting him access to their _accumulated_ wealth for any purpose he deemed necessary. His dark eyebrows hitched. "Nobunaga, I think it's time you explained the purpose of this meeting."

"Ah…yes. Your grandfather is intending to take up a position as advisor to Uncle while you're away. Your father has already taken over your liaison duties." He managed to gather the papers together within a manila envelope. "You're being reassigned."

"What?" A flash of long, thick black hair and a luxuriously rounded bottom had concern nipping at the edges of his mind. His spine snapped straight and he plucked the folder from Nobunaga's hands. "Why am I being pulled from the liaison position? My father was very clear that the families wanted me to be the chief representative for the talks."

"The families have changed their mind," Nobunaga said, his tone grave as he watched Miroku flip open the folder. "They believe your services as a mediator will be better used elsewhere. Uncle agrees."

"You uncle?" His brow wrinkled "Why is the Prime Minister involved?" On the very top of the papers in front of him lay an official government travel pass--to a private island about four hundred miles off the pacific coast of Japan. Miroku frowned and studied the man in front of him with increasing perplexity. "This is Mimisenri's Island."

A strange look passed over Nobunaga's face. "Yes. You've heard of it?"

"Anyone who's spent any time in the business community knows of Mimisenri, and his Island. It's the most exclusive pleasure park in the world. You can get anything your heart desires while there--as long as you can pay the price for it. Most of the time, the only way to even be allowed on the Island is by private invitation, and those are only extended to those with big enough bank accounts." Miroku paused. "I've been there…once or twice. It's quite a place."

"So you're aware of Mimisenri's annual Nihon Conference?"

"I've never attended, but I know of it. It's an international business conference, one of the only events in or near Japan where both human and youkai interact freely with each other."

Silverware and glass clinked and clattered as the little white monkey started scouring the tabletop between them, cleaning the remaining food from forgotten plates. Nobunaga didn't even seem to notice his companion's antics. "Yes. This is actually the first I'd heard of it. Ostensibly, the conference promotes new business ideas and international commerce, because it allows some of the greatest minds and resources in business to come together under relaxed circumstances. They say a fourth of the world's business ventures start during Mimisenri's Nihon Conference." He hesitated. "But, there are also rumors…."

"The private auctions," Miroku murmured. "The black market ones. Yes, I've heard of them." In fact, he'd been present at, and even participated in, a few. Not that he intended to tell Nobunaga; the boy looked upset enough about the rumors alone. "I don't imagine anyone actually believes that Mimisenri acquired his wealth by legal means alone. The businessmen don't care because he gets them what they want; and because he facilitates sorely needed business deals between the territories, neither government is willing to expend the resources it would take to arrest and prosecute him. So Mimisenri's illegal dealings are overlooked by the international community."

Nobunaga shook his head, an indignant frown darkening his already dark eyes. "The things they say happen on his island--"

"Happen in many other places in the world as well, Nobunaga," Miroku broke into what looked to be a looming rant on basic human rights, trying to bring him back to the point. "You must learn to pick your battles wisely if you intend to stay on the political path. Attacking Mimisenri, a youkai with nearly unlimited means, would be a foolhardy and pointless thing for either of the governments to do without a very good reason." He sighed, then leveled dark violet eyes on Nobunaga. "So why am I being assigned as the mediator representative on Mimisenri's Island by an aide to Prime Minister Takeda?"

Nobunaga's jaw clenched and he stared down the way his hands fisted tight against the tablecloth. "It's customary for Mimisenri to request a mediator for the week, just to keep things running smoothly, isn't it?"

Miroku flipped the folder closed. "And quite a pleasant assignment it promises to be. It still doesn't justify pulling me from another important deal to see to it. Nor does it explain why a government aide is involved at all in mediator business."

Nobunaga was already shaking his head. "Sakurai-san. A rumor has surfaced about this year's conference, pertaining to several of the items up for auction."

He hesitated. Looked around. Leaned in close.

Miroku's impatience rose again, putting a twitch in his eyebrow. His finger began to tap against the white cloth. "Nobunaga--"

Nobunaga's dark eyes speared him with the gravity of the situation. "Sakurai-san. It's said that Mimisenri has in his possession, and will be auctioning off to the highest bidder, several shards of the Shikon no Tama."

Miroku felt his eyes go wide, his pupils dilating until the violet in them looked nearly black as his brain went numb with shock. "The Shikon no Tama? But the Shikon hasn't been seen for almost a hundred years." He blinked, then breathed, "Oh, great Lord Buddha. Did you say _shards_?"

"For once, both the government and the mediators agree on the seriousness of the situation. You're to go, confirm the presence of the shards and retrieve them -- and, if at all possible, find any indications of where the rest of the jewel might be." Nobunaga's baby-ish features looked grim. "Under no circumstances is any piece of the jewel to fall into youkai hands. That is an order from both the Prime Minister of the Human Territories and the collective heads of the mediator families."

* * *

%%%%%%%%

----

_YOUKAI TERRITORIES_

_New Musashi, capital city_

----

InuYasha was having a bad afternoon--hell, he'd been having a bad _week_--and he had no qualms about taking it out on anyone who crossed his path.

"Get out of my way, you little moron!"

Especially not the annoying little phone-answering, paper-shuffling, pencil pushers who populated the seventeenth floor.

Youkai of all shapes and sizes scattered away from desks or hallways into nearby offices, leaving trails of papers behind them in their attempt to avoid being trampled by a thoroughly irate, and obviously travel-worn hanyou. He had dust on his clothes and shoes, and his usually healthy silver-white mane of hair hung in dull, unkempt hunks down his back. The ragged-looking sword hanging in full view from the belt of his jeans, however (and every youkai who saw it breathed a quiet thanks for small favors), remained sheathed and untouched.

InuYasha barely noticed the scuttling mass of office workers. He just steamrolled his way, right through the hallways and cubicles, to the wall where the executive elevators were located, and punched an impatient thumb into the call button. Then he stood, boot tapping, mumbling. "Calling me straight back like this…had to run all the way…fucking hungry…_better_ be one hell of an emergency."

When the elevator finally responded to his summons, the low-pitched, cheerful bell signaling its arrival prompted a canine-baring snarl. He stepped into the tiny box, shoved his fists into the pockets of his leather jacket, then turned to find countless bug-eyes peeking from their various hiding spots throughout the room: above, around, and below desks, behind windows and doors. Most of the youkai viewing him with such terrified fascination were small and toad-like, members of a weak-but-numerous clan who had latched onto Sesshoumaru nearly a century ago.

The sensitive white ears atop his head twitched his irritation. Just to scare them, he wrapped a hand threateningly around Tetsusaiga's tattered hilt, slammed the toe of his dirt-clumped boot into the side of the elevator, and snarled again. "What the hell are _you_ looking at?"

At the bang, the whole room seemed to jump, and he watched the youkai's scurrying movements with a small spurt of satisfaction until the door closed them off from his view. His stomach flipped at the weight shift as the elevator climbed upward, but his ears continued to catch the low whispers from below for several moments.

"_InuYasha-sama is upset today_."

"_Of course he is. He failed to deliver the latest shipment to the dragons_."

"_Really? I hadn't heard that._"

"_I heard he was robbed before the shipment made it to Ryukotsusei-sama_."

"_Well __**I**__ heard that he didn't even make it into dragon lands before he was __**beaten**__ and robbed_. _By simple, everyday low-level bandits_."

"_**Eeeeeeh**_?!"

"_Poor InuYasha-sama. If only he were half the youkai that Sesshoumaru-sama is_."

"_Hmm? But isn't he __**already**__ only half the youkai Sesshoumaru-sama is_?"

His teeth ground together, his eyes closing tight as he tried to suppress the urge to go back and beat some sense into the useless little youkai. "I _didn't_ _fail_, you tiny, stupid, gossiping toads." He let his head fall back against the elevator wall and scratched absently at the back of one ear with a claw, trying to relieve some of the stress of the last few days. How the hell did the rumors always start up so quickly anyway? He hadn't been back in the city for more than a damn hour!

His lip curled. "Fucking frogs."

Another low-pitched ding, and the doors in front of him opened up. With a quick shake of his head, InuYasha stepped out. The executive lobby had lush carpets, dark oak paneling lining the walls and doors, and a soothing color scheme in grays and tans. Tasteful indoor lighting peeked from the ceiling, potted plants stood at attention at random intervals, and large windows along the walls let in plenty of sunlight. A large, dark-stained half-circle of a desk sat directly across from the elevators.

InuYasha didn't care about the opulence; he focused on the two hallways, guarded by the desk, that led back into the offices.

His father's secretary, Centi, sat behind the desk, her long black hair pulled into a sedate ponytail. Each of her six arms was engaged in a different activity: one hand typed, while another sorted and occasionally stamped papers, a third watered her newest dying desk-plant, and the fourth held a phone to her ear. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing with the fifth and sixth. They weren't visible over the high desk. At his entrance, all her arms paused, and she stared at him.

He started to storm right past the desk, but froze halfway across the carpet when an odd, wet, tacky _sound_ wormed its way into his ears. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off the unsettling noise, and scowled at Centi.

Her large, vaguely beady eyes were fixed on him. She said something into the phone in some obscure youkai dialect that he wasn't familiar with, then put the receiver against her shoulder. She didn't seem to care about his scowl; he could swear he saw a smirk curving the blood-red texture of her lips. "Welcome back, InuYasha-sama. The Taisho wants you in Conference One as soon as you get here. As in, _immediately_." The words stopped coming, but her mouth continued moving in a slow, cow-like motion.

InuYasha nodded, but his ears twitched again at the sounds still coming from her mouth. "Fine. He better have a damn good reason for pulling back from--" He paused again at halfway around the desk and gave the company secretary a narrowed look from golden, slit-pupil eyes. "What the hell is that sound, Centi? Is that _gum_?"

She turned her head at him, a slow, deliberate, too-far twist over her shoulder, and slipped her long tongue out to slide along her lips. Her jaw continued to work around the gum. InuYasha fought back a vague, disgusted shudder.

"Yes. The Taisho wants me to quit smoking. Says the smell bothers him."

InuYasha caught the scent of medicine-laden mint, scowled again, and gave her his back. "Keh. He's going to tell you to quit chewing, too, if you don't stop making so much damn noise."

Centi cackled, a disturbingly grating sound that followed him down the hall. "Funny. Sesshoumaru-sama said the same thing. Though, he offered to help me by removing my teeth."

InuYasha snorted, but didn't bother to respond. Letting her know that the insinuation that he was in any way similar to his brother had irked him would only encourage her to do it again. Centi had been the company secretary for as long as he could remember, and for as long as he could remember, she'd taken a sadistic personal joy in torturing her employers.

Thanks to her multitasking, paper-filing perfection, Taisho Transport and Services maintained its reputation as one of the smoothest, most reliable import/export companies in the Eastern hemisphere. The Taisho males, aggressive and knowledgeable though they were, _hated_ paperwork.

InuYasha and Sesshoumaru put up with her because avoiding red tape headaches was worth the aggravation of her presence; InuYasha was pretty sure his father put up with her because he _liked_ the fact that she was an aggravation. The Taisho also had a certain fondness for her talent in scaring off what his father termed "undesirables": they occasionally visited the executive offices, seeking jobs, favors, or "other things" from one of the most powerful daiyoukai in all of Japan. Rarely did they make it past Centi.

_ That_, InuYasha understood perfectly. Centi had always creeped the hell out of him.

He shrugged her off and headed for Conference One, bypassing the shower and change of clothes he knew he'd find inside his office. He found the dark-stained, solid oak doors just where the hallway began to curve. They were shut, and he took great pleasure in smacking them hard enough to make them tremble; the doors flew open under his palms and slammed back into the walls.

Inside, a lone male figure sat towards the other end of the long, oval conference table, near the windows that made up the back wall. The jacket of his immaculate black suit was thrown over the back of his chair, leaving him in a crisp white dress shirt--sans tie, as always. His long, white-silver hair hung free, straight and slick around his shoulders, and he sipped what smelled like tea from a clay cup. On the table's shiny black surface, a small laptop whished with electricity.

Not whom he had been expecting. A string of swear words, all of them good, but none of them entirely appropriate to express his annoyance, ran through his head. "Where the hell is Dad?"

At InuYasha's crashing entrance, golden eyes with cat-slit pupils, eerily similar to his own, rose from the computer. One eyebrow hitched slightly, distaste and a faint smirk in his otherwise-indifferent features. "InuYasha. You smell remarkably like a filthy dog. Keep your stink on the other side of the table."

InuYasha sent a glare right back at him. "Fuck off, Sesshoumaru. I just got back from dragon territory, delivering the fucking sake that _you_ promised them. I ain't had time for a bath."

Sesshoumaru's eyes had already dropped back to his laptop, and a few sedate clicks emanated from the keyboard. The faint glow from the screen added a weird hue to the magenta stripes slashing against his cheeks. "It was wine, and it was very expensive to ship from France. It better have all been intact. The terms of the contract with Ryukotsusei were--"

"Yeah, yeah. I fulfilled your damn contract. To the fucking letter." InuYasha ground the back of his teeth. "Thirty barrels, babied like eggs, just in time for that weird festival of theirs."

"And the payment?" Sesshoumaru still didn't look up, though the keyboard tapping had stopped. It looked like he was reading something now.

"A hundred pounds of scales, a hundred pounds of some strange-smelling powder, and a hundred pounds of flowers, all trucking their way here though the friendly routes." Though why the dragons never paid in money like most of their clients did escaped him. They damn well had enough of it.

"The bonus?"

InuYasha rolled his eyes. "Twenty pounds of that weird blue plant? Yeah, that, too." He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. "I brought it with me and dropped it off in the warehouse. It's all yours now."

"Humph."

InuYasha growled again. "You could thank me, you know. If I hadn't handled the shipment personally, it wouldn't have made it on time." He glanced around at the deserted seats and wished he could smell coffee along with the tea. The weariness of a solid week of handling high-priority goods was starting to catch up to him; he needed sleep, food and a bath, in whichever order got it all to him fastest. "Thanks to you and your damn last-minute negotiations, I haven't slept in three days."

He sighed again, and rolled one tense shoulder as he walked around the table--towards Sesshoumaru, just to get the bastard back for the stink comment. "So? Where the hell is Dad? He was the one so damn insistent about me getting back as fast as possible. I had to run all the way from Hokkaido _and_ cut through Panther lands. Damn cats nearly took me out just for walking on their precious grass."

That earned another "humph" from Sesshoumaru, this one filled with contempt. "I haven't spoken to Father in several days. I've been in the Ookami lands, meeting with their Elder Council about the bone-ware deal." A brief sidelong glance, filled with golden irritation. "Kouga's demanding compensation for the sacred weapon you broke the last time you two fought. And you should have just taken a plane."

"Keh. Kouga can kiss my ass; it was his fault for getting me drunk before he challenged me." InuYasha stopped just behind Sesshoumaru's chair and glared again. "And it's the dragons, remember? They're not real fond of technology to begin with, and screw machines that can fly. Running was faster than waiting for decent transportation, and by the time I got through the Panthers, it was just easier to avoid the roads and cut straight through." He peered over Sesshoumaru's shoulder at the computer screen. His brow wrinkled as he gave an absent shot at translating the foreign words. "Austria? What the hell are you reading?"

Sesshoumaru's palm slammed against the tabletop as he stood and whirled, the motion so abrupt it sent his chair rolling backwards. The chair saved InuYasha from serious injury; it forced him to spring backwards just as the claws of Sesshoumaru's right hand shot out, swiping at his chest.

InuYasha cursed as his back hit the wall with a jarring thud; his hand groped for the tattered hilt at his side. A faint hissing tickled his ears, and he looked down to find four ragged slashes in the front of his shirt slowly eating themselves into gaping holes. He looked up, glaring in disbelief. "What the fuck is--that's my shirt, you bastard!"

Sesshoumaru was facing him now, the glare back in his eyes. He held his right hand out, fingers curled, ready to strike again. "I told you," he said, a quiet, lethal note in his voice, "to keep your stink on the other side of the table."

"I'll go wherever the hell I damn well please!" A rip, a flare of power, and InuYasha pointed the large, smooth, deadly curve of his sword at the youkai in front of him, his gut burning with anger and anticipation. "You got something up your ass, Sesshoumaru? Fine. Tetsusaiga and I haven't had a good workout for while. We'll pry it out for you."

Sesshoumaru's face went subtly tight, and his eyes took on a menacing narrow. His lip curled, and the crack of his knuckles echoed through the empty conference room. "Let's see if you can."

InuYasha sensed nothing. No sound, no approaching smell in warning: one moment he was facing Sesshoumaru, bristling and bracing for a clash that promised to be bloody; the next, a huge, familiar body stood between them, powerful shoulders and outstretched arms blocking his way with ease. Long silver hair, gathered high into a ponytail, swung from rapid movement, and a deep warning growl rippled through the air. One large, clawed hand had a restraining grip on Sesshoumaru's wrist, and the fingers of the other had clamped down tight on Tetsusaiga's blade, completely ignoring the sharp edge that cut into its palm.

For a moment, everything froze.

A heavy sigh drifted between them, and a deep, smooth voice spoke as yellow-amber eyes darted an exasperated glance from brother to brother. "Enough, you two. I didn't call you both back here to wreck more office furniture."

InuYasha blinked, only vaguely surprised and somewhat pissed at the old man's interference. He watched a droplet of blood run along Tetsusaiga's heavy curve to meet the hilt, then relaxed and stepped back. "Che. Dad. Where the hell have you been?" He flicked Tetsusaiga free of his father's blood, and pushed the huge blade back into the slim, black conformity of its sheath.

"Making arrangements. Since you two have managed to get along decently well for the past decade or so, I made the mistake of assuming it would be safe to leave you alone with each other for a few minutes." The Taisho released Sesshoumaru's hand before he turned a raised brow at InuYasha. "And since when is a father accountable to his sons?"

Sesshoumaru "humphed" again and returned his chair to in front of his computer. "Perhaps when a father summons his sons away from important business without a sufficient explanation."

The Taisho's dark gold eyes went with amusement to his eldest son. The jagged violet slashes that lined his cheekbones made a striking contrast to the multiple magenta ones of the face looking back at him. "The explanation I have is more than sufficient, though I'd prefer to tell you over a table that remains in one piece." He glanced at InuYasha, and nodded to the other side of the table before sauntering over to the huge leather chair that sat at the head of the conference table.

InuYasha followed him and continued on to a chair on the other side. He watched his father stop at the window directly behind the head chair and draw an invisible symbol against the glass. He reached into the pocket of his casual sports jacket and retrieved a slim pair of file folders and a much smaller, folded piece of paper. The paper he unfolded, then slapped flat across what he'd drawn. They heard a small hiss and a hum before the background noise permeating the building went silent.

InuYasha's confusion drew across his brow. The hiss had been his father's hand burning when he activated the power in the sutra. What could be so important that his father had to use a human seclusion spell?

The Taisho settled into his chair, ignoring the burned flesh on his hand, and placed the folder on the table in front of him. He crossed his arms and sat for a moment, his vexed gaze going from Sesshoumaru, to InuYasha, and back again. A faint, rumble passed through his throat. "I thought you two had gotten over your petty squabbling years ago."

InuYasha suddenly felt as if he were pre-pubescent pup again, being scolded for hiding creepy crawlies in the fluffiest parts of Sesshoumaru's moko-moko. He scowled again. "Hey, don't blame me. The bastard over there is the one who wanted a fight. I was just obliging him."

"I warned him to stay away. He didn't listen." Sesshoumaru looked both unrepentant and stubborn. His eyes were still narrowed. "Idiot hanyou."

InuYasha slammed a palm against the polished black surface in front of him. "You know I can wipe the floor with you anytime, you bastard!"

"Enough!" The Taisho's voice echoed through the room like a thunderclap, his voice steely and commanding. "You both obviously have other things on your mind today, but that ends--" he picked up the folders and tossed them, one to each son, "now. This takes top priority."

InuYasha slapped his down, then pried it off the table. "What's this?"

"Contracts for you to sign and blood seal. You two are going to the Nihon Conference as representatives of the Inu."

"Blood seal? What's so important that it needs a blood seal?" InuYasha flipped open his file and picked up the travel pass lying right on top. "You're sending us to Mimisenri's Island?"

"You've both been there before. You've also met Mimisenri, which is one of the reasons we're sending you."

Sesshoumaru looked up from his file, eyebrow slightly hitched. "You want _InuYasha_ to attend a business conference?"

The Taisho looked amused again. "You know very well that InuYasha is fully aware of how to conduct himself in such a setting, Sesshoumaru. Just because he chooses to be a handler doesn't mean he is incapable of doing so, or that his education in that area is lacking."

Sesshoumaru's brow inched a little higher in a scathing hint of sarcasm. "No, only his practice."

"Since when do you give a flying fuck about what I practice?" InuYasha sneered before he turned back to his father. "You're damn right. I _choose_ not to hang around a bunch of stiff assholes. So why the hell do you wanna send me to an island full of 'em?"

"Because during his Grand Auction this year, Mimisenri will supposedly be giving several pieces of the Shikon no Tama to the highest bidder."

InuYasha head jerked up, and whatever comments he'd been preparing to refuse the job died in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Sesshoumaru, too, had straightened in his seat. The Taisho watched them and waited, the skin between his eyes creased.

"_The_ Shikon no Tama?" InuYasha ran a rough, travel-weary hand down his face. "The jewel that was the only thing left of Midoriko after she threw up that damn Barrier? The one that's been fought over like a bitch in heat since its creation?"

"The very one."

"Well, hell." InuYasha sat back in his chair. "I thought it was gone."

"It was." Sesshoumaru's voice sent chills into the air. "Almost a century ago, the Shikon disappeared with its last guardian, a priestess by the name of Kikyou."

The Taisho gave slight nod. "And now Mimisenri's found it. That is, assuming he hasn't had it all along."

"And he's selling it," Sesshoumaru murmured, eyes narrowed in thought.

The Taisho's mouth gave a quirk upward, though it lacked any of his normal humor. "No, he's selling _pieces_ of it."

InuYasha scowled. "So he _broke_ it? What the hell? Wasn't it too powerful to fuck around with?"

"It is powerful. Dangerously so." The Taisho sat forward, lacing his fingers together in front of his face. "In the years right after the Barrier was formed, both youkai and humans fought over the power it could grant. But each time someone gained control of the jewel, they were overwhelmed by its power, possessed by it. For about a century, both territories tried to contain it, but the cursed thing managed to bounce between them, mysteriously vanishing from one side, only to appear on the other. Every time it appeared, another conflict broke out over it, and more died."

InuYasha listened, still and silent. He knew his father had been alive back when the Barrier first sprang up, but it had never occurred to him that he would have direct memories of the jewel.

"The seven Daiyoukai lords decided that the jewel was too much a temptation to exist, and we tried to destroy it. We failed. The only time the jewel was ever safe was in the hands of a human with enough spiritual power to keep it from being tainted. Once we figured that out, we handed the jewel over to the human government on the condition that the jewel is kept safely in the hands of a guardian capable of controlling it. If we'd left it to run free across the regions, the result would have been unending civil war." He lifted a brow. "That was the first time the territories had worked together on anything."

InuYasha's ears twitched. "Wait. If the combined efforts of the Daiyoukai lords couldn't destroy the Shikon, then how did _Mimisenri_ break it?"

"No. The more important question is why is he selling it?" Sesshoumaru didn't seem to ask the question of either of them in particular. He was staring out the window, at the distant, ever-present glow of the Barrier out at the very edge of the city.

Lines bracketed the edges of the Taisho's mouth as he gave slight nod. "He doesn't want for money. Mimisenri is already wealthier than most countries. Like the other daiyoukai, he doesn't even need power; he has the secrets of all the rich and powerful who stay at his Island. So, even if it is broken into shards, why sell the jewel at all?"

"Maybe he just wants to show off. Isn't possessing the jewel supposed to be some sort of status symbol?" InuYasha shrugged.

Sesshoumaru spared him a scathing glance. "If Mimisenri were the type to show off, he wouldn't avoid the public so diligently. Even you and I have seen him only once, and that was because of Father." He didn't wait for InuYasha's retort, just turned his gaze back to their father. "So? What else? You don't simply want us to retrieve the pieces on auction."

"No." The Taisho's gaze went hard and dark, and his brows dipped low into a furious glower. "Naraku will be participating in the conference as well."

A deep growl ripped from InuYasha's throat, his fingers curling against the smooth table; his claws scratched into the surface, a grating sound that reverberated oddly within the confines of the seclusion spell. "And? You want me to kill the son of a bitch?"

"You'd be a fool to try." Sesshoumaru gave a soft humph, though he looked no more pleased about the situation than InuYasha felt. "Mimisenri's entry contracts expressly forbid unauthorized violence between guests. That's one of the reasons for the requirement of a blood seal. Killing Naraku on Mimisenri's Island could cost you your life."

His teeth snapped together on a snarl and he shot to his feet. "Shut up. What the fuck would you know about it? _Your_ mother is still--"

The Taisho's palm slammed into the table, rattling glass and metal. "_Enough, InuYasha_." His voice was little more than a steel-laden thread of fury.

InuYasha froze and cast a wary look at the head of the table.

The Taisho's eyes were hard. "Seeing Naraku dead is as important to me as it is to you, but that's secondary to what's taking place now. Sesshoumaru's right. Calm down. Sit and listen." He waited for InuYasha's grudging compliance. "We think Naraku has been in direct contact with Mimisenri for several months at least."

InuYasha clenched his fist around the soft leather of the armrest. "He's aiming for the jewel pieces."

"Of course the shards are a factor." Sesshoumaru steepled his fingers. "But if it were only that, Mimisenri wouldn't bother with such personal contact. The auction is enough to sort out those who want the jewel. There's something else."

"It's more than a few shards on auction, then." InuYasha snorted. " To draw the old bastard out like that, Naraku's got to have something that interests Mimisenri."

The Taisho sat back, that small, a grudging smile tugging at his lips. "Yes. The Daiyoukai lords are very concerned about this communication. Naraku has been quietly attacking the regions, and us, for decades, and we haven't been able to do anything about it because we can't prove anything under current youkai law." His voice darkened. "Nor have any of us been able to catch him in person, which would negate the requirement for the law. He is nothing more than a shadow to us. That his latest scheme seems to involve the Shikon no Tama is unforgivable."

"Shards." Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed, then darkened. "Mimisenri acquired the shards he's selling from somewhere."

InuYasha frowned. "If Naraku gets even a small piece of the Shikon no Tama, it'll mean trouble for all the seven regions." He flipped through the papers in the folder again, his words roughening as he caught on. "Shit. But if Naraku somehow managed to get a hold of the whole damn thing--"

"Either scenario is unacceptable." Sesshoumaru stood, folder in one hand, and shut his computer with the other. "I'll go. InuYasha's presence isn't necessary."

InuYasha ignored him. "What the hell did Naraku promise Mimisenri to get him personal contact? Even if this isn't about the whole jewel, Mimisenri can't be stupid enough to think he can trust Naraku. If they have some kind of private deal, it's bound to get messy once they start double-crossing each other." He growled. "Shit. And no matter what, it's walking into enemy territory if Mimisenri's working with Naraku. _Shit_."

"That's why you're _both_ going. InuYasha is someone you can trust, Sesshoumaru. He's our best handler for a reason, and you'll need each other's skills. I want you two to work together. This is not a request." The Taisho stood as well, his expression hard, indomitable. "Find out what Naraku and Mimisenri are up to, and relieve them of however much of the Shikon no Tama they have. You have the complete financial support of this company and the private wealth of the seven Daiyoukai lords. Use it wisely." He turned and stepped over to the window, where the sutra still stuck against the glass. "And InuYasha…if you manage to find out anything about Naraku in the process, that's a good thing."

For the first time since he'd gotten back into the city, InuYasha found himself grinning, an almost bloodthirsty show of fangs. "Heh. And if I manage to kill him?"

The Taisho glanced back over his shoulder. "I won't hold it against you."

InuYasha stared, had to stop himself from stepping back. His father's golden eyes held a familiar cold, ruthless glint—but beneath the ruthlessness, there was an equally familiar, disconcerting hint of tired grief. InuYasha gritted his teeth, refused to swallow the searing spike of fury in his throat.

"How much time do we have to prepare?" Sesshoumaru sounded irritated. He stood by the door, one impatient claw tapping gently against the slim handle.

"You'll be leaving first thing in the morning. Have your offices ordered by then." The Taisho reached up and fingered the sutra keeping them enclosed in tamper-proof privacy. "The youkai mediators are sending representatives as well. Since their goals coincide with ours, I expect you to cooperate with them; as mediators, they'll have access to information and events that you might not alone." Amusement filled his voice as he ripped the paper off the window. It flared brightly, then dissolved in the air. "Try not to make too many enemies, you two."

As the last of the paper vanished into smoke, the ever-present background noise filled in the silence, and a heavy pounding from on the other side of the oak doors reverberated through the room.

A faint, squawky wail accompanied the pounding. "Sesshoumaru-saaamaa! Please open the door, Sesshouuuumaru-sama!"

Sesshoumaru's went wide briefly before he yanked open the door and glared down at the knee-high, green-skinned imp that tumbled forward onto his face. It took the littler youkai a moment to realize that his cries had been answered. He looked up with tears in his beady yellow eyes. "Oh Sesshoumaru-sama! Thank you for answering the door! Forgive me for interrupting, Taisho-sama." He paused, then muttered, grudgingly, "InuYasha-sama."

InuYasha had to hold back a snort at the thumping vein in Sesshoumaru's forehead, and a wince. Sesshoumaru's freakishly loyal personal secretary had an annoying voice on his _good_ days. "Oi, Sesshoumaru, shut your pet toad up, will you? He's giving me a headache."

Sesshoumaru's eyes had already narrowed into lethal near-slits. "Jaken. I told you I would be unavailable until this meeting ended."

Jaken didn't even bother to get off his knees before he started groveling. "Forgive me, Sesshoumaru-sama, but your mother is on the phone again. She is absolutely insisting that you speak with her immediately. She refuses to await a return call, and she says she knows that you're not in Ookami territory, out of the country, or sick. Please Sesshoumaru-sama, you must speak with her. She's threatening to serve me up as a delicacy at her next business party."

The Taisho's deep chuckle rumbled from the back of the room. "It sounds as if your mother wants to discuss your contract deadlines again, Sesshoumaru."

The information didn't seem to improve Sesshoumaru's disposition any. His fingers clenched tight around the folder in his hand, and the paper crumpled, hissed beneath his claws. He stared down, unmoving for a moment, then turned on his heel and strode out into the hallway. "Tell her I'm dead."

"_Eeeeeh?_!" Jaken gawked after him, then scrambled onto his feet and darted into the hallway. "But, my lord, the last time I told her that, she kept me busy for hours planning the best way to bury me alive with your body."

The Taisho continued to chuckle as the sound of Jaken's fretful muttering trailed down the hall, then cut off abruptly with the slam of a door. "My foolish son. He can run all he likes, but he will eventually have to deal with her."

"Keh!" Restlessly, InuYasha stood. "Stupid ass." He grabbed the folder off the table, and then headed for the door. "I'll take care of Naraku."

"InuYasha."

Halfway out the door, his father's voice stopped him. He looked back.

"All this aside, the anniversary is next month. Will you be coming this year?"

He looked away, down the hallway towards his own offices and the shower that awaited him. The Taisho's piercing gaze didn't let up even though he was no longer meeting it. "Don't I always come?"

A deep sigh. "I meant to her grave."

His jaw clenched, and he turned to meet his father's eyes. "I visit her. Every year." Just never with him. Never with anyone who could see him grieve. No one, not even his father, had ever had the right to see him grieve.

Except one. And he wasn't sure she had ever been real.

The Taisho studied him for a moment, then nodded. "All right. I'll trust you with this and make the arrangements." He gave his son one more long, considering look. "InuYasha. Don't let your pride get in the way of working with your brother. The game you're about to play is very dangerous. No matter how capable you are on your own, you'll need your allies. They'll make you stronger, not weaker."

InuYasha snorted. "You don't need to tell that to _me_." He vanished down the hall, in the opposite direction of Sesshoumaru.

The Taisho stared hard at the empty doors. "I shouldn't have to tell that to either of you, my foolish sons."

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A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. I really appreciate them. Two important notes on this story.

1. This is an experiment of sorts for me, and I'm still uncertain as to a few of the elements and characterizations, so this is an under-construction work. Don't be surprised if I have to go back and change a few things along the way.

2. I'm working without a beta, and though I'm doing my best, I'm certain that there are things I've missed. Also, I've found recently that my "w" key is getting sticky, so if you see any wording that seems a bit weird, please don't hesitate to point them out. I promise I won't get bitchy about it. I'm more than pleased to hear any and all comments.

Thanks so much for the feedback,

ShadesofNight


	4. Seized

**Chapter 3: Seized**

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Sango unlocked the door and stepped into the darkness of her tiny apartment, kicking her chunky heels into the genkan as she did so. With a sigh, she curled her fingers around the tie in her hair and tugged, pausing to enjoy the freeing sensation as the dark mass fell heavily against her back and shoulders. She tossed her keys onto the nearest flat surface, a side table littered with mail that stood sentry near the entrance, and leaned back against the door.

Her eyes swiped idly around the living space: boxy, cluttered-but-neat, and with only a flimsy partition to separate the kitchen/dining area from the living room. A thirteen inch television took up some space on top of the low bookcases lining her walls, while the shelves below held as many odd knickknacks and useful items as she could fit in around the books. Through the open door at the back, she could see the folded futon and used armoire taking up most of the space in her bedroom. It was small, but it was hers. All of it with no help from her parents, and no reliance on the significant money or influence of the Hoshinuma name. All of it the result of years of hard work and effort, a sign and proof of her own worth. Her sanctuary.

She had a pleasant, wine-induced buzz humming through her head and the warmth of a years-old friendship soothing her stomach, but the smile that quirked her mouth was bittersweet at best as she tried to swallow the vague wistfulness nipping at the day. It was so nice to spend time in the company of good friends and not have to worry about appearances and expectations, tetchy superiors, or disrespectful co-workers. The afternoon had been an oasis in the stress-filled desert of her recent life, and she'd needed it desperately.

It was just such a shame that these get-togethers had become so scarce in recent years. Back in college it had been easy to just pick up and go out for the day, but in the past few years they'd been resigning themselves more and more to phone calls and Internet chats.

Rin's life had been a whirlwind of art shows and exotic trips since even before they'd graduated. Kagome had been consumed with the workings of her job and plagued by a lazy boss, and then Houjou had come onto the scene to take up even more of her time. And Sango herself….

Her smile faded into a grimace.

If Kagome worked long hours, then Sango never stopped, and hadn't really since she'd joined the police force. Because of her specialized knowledge of youkai and youkai combat techniques, she'd managed to become one of the youngest detectives in the entire city, never mind that she was a woman.

Everyone expected so much, and yet it was never she, Sango, who was capable. Only the Hoshinuma name. It had been that way her entire life. She'd grown up nurtured and strong within the strong traditions of the clan Hoshinuma, a prized, prickly flower of the house. But as proud as she'd always been of her family's strengths and accomplishments, somewhere in her teens, she'd realized she'd needed to earn something for herself. She'd needed to become an asset _to_ the Hoshinuma, not an asset _of_ them; so she'd deviated from her father's chosen path for her. It had taken her years, but she'd done it – and all without the help or approval of her parents, because they'd never understood what drove her. It had been a source of constant stress for all of them, and one she regretted even as she couldn't change it.

But now, after this past week, and especially after what she'd done this afternoon, she wasn't even sure if she'd be able to keep for herself the things she'd earned on her own. How could she when the Hoshinuma legacy hung so heavily around her neck?

The blinking red blip on her answering machine, tucked off to the side of the television, jumped out at her with every pulse. With anther sigh and a mental brace, Sango slung her jacket carelessly over the back of her couch and rummaged through her purse until she found her cell. She pressed the power button to light up the dead phone, and watched with dismay as the display notified her of twelve missed calls. Her fist clenched, so hard that her nails dug into her palm and her arm trembled with the strain.

"Can't you just leave me be for a little longer, Mother?"

She tossed her purse and the phone onto the coffee table and stalked over to press the button on the answering machine. It beeped, and the mechanical voice informed her of ten missed messages before it started playing them back, one by one.

BEEP.

"_Sango, this is Okasan. Just calling to remind you about the meeting with Lord Hitomi's son today. Don't forget we arranged to meet at the house beforehand so I can help you with that kimono we had made. It makes you look so beautiful and graceful._"

BEEP.

_ "Sango, where are you? You were supposed to meet me at the house fifteen minutes ago, and you're not answering your cell. Something didn't happen with your job, did it? I had your father talk to your superiors last week. They promised not to give you any trouble.... You understand the importance of this meeting. Please, Sango._"

BEEP.

_ "Sango! Your mother is very upset. You were told about this omiai weeks ago. I even arranged everything with your job and with Lord Hitomi. If you do not appear it will cause us great embarrassment. Where are you?_"

BEEP.

Sango fumbled with the buttons on her shirt and walked into the bathroom, still half-listening as the messages played in the background, continuing to alternate between her mother and her father, each message growing progressively more agitated as they moved from the family estate to the restaurant. She perched on the edge of the tub, started the water, and rolled her head, trying to alleviate some of the tension tightening her neck and shoulders. Her head ached and the heat radiating from the tub called to her.

BEEP.

"_Sango, Sango, why are you ignoring us? We've already been waiting for twenty minutes. Lord Hitomi and his son are being very gracious, but this is an insult to them! You must come! Please, __Sango._"

BEEP.

_"Sango! This is unacceptable behavior for the only daughter of the Hoshinuma to engage in! You have humiliated me, your mother, and everyone in our family by ignoring this obligation today. This rebelliousness will not go without consequence. We'll discuss this as soon as I smooth things over with Lord Hitomi._"

BEEP.

_"Ane-ue._"

Her younger brother's voice drifted in through the open doorway as she was in the middle of tugging off her skirt and she froze, staring down at the clear, steaming water.

_"I know you were against this from the start, and it wasn't fair of them, but was it really a good idea to ignore it? It's not like you would have been forced to marry Hitomi. Father is really angry, Sango._"

He paused, his silence was a tone-like buzz on the recording. Sango pressed her lips into a tight, thin line. "They didn't even ask, Kohaku." Nor had they listened when she'd voiced her objections.

_ "Mother and Father…they're just worried about you. They're afraid you're so caught up in proving yourself to whomever you think you need to prove yourself that you'll forget about other things. Stuff they think is more important. I know it's hard to believe sometimes, but they only want you to be happy. You know how they are. I don't like seeing you at odds with them. Think about apologizing, will you?_"

BEEP.

_End of messages_.

Frowning, Sango let her skirt and the rest of her underwear slide down her legs and dropped them into the small crate of dirty clothes near the door. The hot water hissed as she sat on the tiny stool in the cleaning area and soaped down and scrubbed off the exertion of the day.

_Omiai_. A marriage meeting. How could they? Without asking, without even mentioning the possibility first, without even wondering if she'd have the smallest interest in Lord Hitomi's son. They'd just called her back to the Hoshinuma main house for a fitting for a new kimono. All her objections had been brushed aside.

They just wanted her to be _happy_?

What? Was it not good enough? Was everything she'd done with her life so far just not enough for them? She was a detective – not only one of the youngest, but a successful female in a profession only just opening itself up to the female half of the population. Didn't they realize how hard she'd had to work to make it this far? How _good_ she had to be? What had she done to make her parents think she wasn't happy?

_Except_, a little voice niggled at the back of her brain, _they're not entirely wrong_.

She liked her job. No, she loved her job and derived an intense amount of satisfaction from being good at it, from making those in the male idiocracy that dominated the police force cringe at having to give her commendations and approval. But it was...a little lonely. She had little, if any camaraderie with anyone on the force because the guys either resented her for being a woman or for her family name; the few women thought she was either a cold-hearted bitch or an untouchable idol.

She frowned.

Come to think of it, the only person who'd ever treated her with an attitude anywhere near normal at her job was...that pervert Sakurai. The bastard sexually harassed her every chance he got but at least he respected her skills for what they were. And, as much as she hated the fact that he flirted shamelessly with any girl who looked at him, she respected him as well. He was capable, good at his job when he was serious about it. It was just so irritatingly hard to tell when he was serious.

And then there was that tug, that pleasant pull in her tummy and the blood-rush in her veins that kept trying to convince her to give in to his suggestive play every time she got near him – that flush, that excited, tingling flutter that no man had ever before managed to subject her to. The secret thrill that underlined the fury every time his hand massaged over her backside, the seductive, seeping warmth that enticed her to let him keep it there, maybe do a little more. The same sensations assaulting her now.

Sango blinked down at the way her soapy hands had slowed against the bare skin of her stomach. Her spine snapped straight, and she tossed her washcloth away in a fit of temper.

_No. No, no, no, no_!

She rinsed off with quick, efficient movements and didn't bother with her hair before she slipped into the steaming tub. She gave soft sigh of relief at the hot water closed over her weary muscles, and spent some time staring brooding at the tiny, fogged window high in the wall above her head.

Okay. Maybe in the quietest of her most personal moments, she could admit that she found Miroku attractive; she might even grudgingly go so far as to acknowledge that she might even _want_ him. But the temptation was irrelevant. She wasn't about to humiliate herself by becoming some barely remembered notch on a bedpost – not even for a man who made her insides churn with heat and her imagination churn with things she'd never considered doing before.

And it didn't matter anyway, because she was likely well on her way to being engaged to a man her parents considered suitable. The Hitomi family was wealthy and influential, the majority of them holding positions high within the government. Sango, for all her rebelliousness, was still a daughter of the Hoshinuma, with a pride that was built into her blood. Already, she felt regret for shaming her parents publicly.

And.... And because Kohaku was wrong. A marriage meeting between the old and distinguished families wasn't the same as a normal matchmaker service for the general population. In their world, power and politics were more important than personal feelings and an omiai a formality of an alliance already discussed and agreed upon. She let her head drop back against the edge of her small tub and sighed again. This small defiance of hers wouldn't be the end of it. Their parents had, for whatever reason, decided it was time for her to marry, and they wouldn't stop pressuring, arranging, and interfering until she was safely out of "dried up old fish" territory. The flower of the Hoshinuma could not be allowed to wither without fertilization. Sango had known that this was coming for quite some time.

Her mouth twisted into a grimace.

Kohaku was lucky. As the male heir, he would have much more time than she'd been given. He might even have enough time to find someone for himself before their parents arranged someone for him.

It wasn't as horrible as it sounded. Happiness could, and often did, come from the arranged marriages of the aristocracy – her parents were an example of that. Her father lived and breathed for her mother, and her mother adored her father; and for that Sango would always be grateful, because for all the clashes they'd had in the past few years, she still loved them dearly and would hate to see them unhappy. Unfortunately for her, she'd already met Lord Hitomi's son once, during a totally unrelated work event. He was handsome, but he'd inspired nothing in her but a vague, squirming sense of distaste. Nothing even close to what her irritating lech of a partner did to her.

_If that's all you have to look forward to_, an insidious internal voice whispered, _then why not avail yourself of something you truly want while you still can_? She had no doubt that Miroku, rakish playboy that he was, would be more than willing to show her whatever sexual ropes she might want to experience. Rin would most vehemently agree with that, even if Sango couldn't quite bring herself to sacrifice her pride to a man who would take it with a carefree smile and move right on to the next woman.

A smile lifted her lips. When Rin and Kagome found out, they'd each blow an individual gasket; she'd have to listen to them rail at her about independence and pride and personal fulfillment. Well, she'd have to listen to Rin. Once Kagome got over her initial indignation, she'd be more forgiving. Kagome understood better that the deep ties and obligations that went along with family weren't nearly so simple.

Inhaling, shaking herself from her contemplative stupor, she brought her hand up to scrub a film of wet across her face. And stilled. Blinked. Frowned. Sniffed again, more carefully this time.

A vague, bitter-herbal smell had crept into her tiny bath; it seemed to mingle with the curls of steam drifting off the water. The smell was out-of-place. Wrong.

She looked around, noted she'd left the bathroom door open a crack; her head tilted as she listened. Nothing stirred through the small opening, but the silence from beyond was the suspended, unnatural kind instead of the comfortable one that normally permeated her home. Despite the heat, an adrenaline-laced chill washed through her body. Her blood rushed through her veins, and her gut tensed in an instinctive warning that she'd learned _never_ to ignore.

_Someone was in her apartment_.

A burglar? A rapist? A peep? Outrage hit her, and her expression hardened.

_Not in this lifetime_.

She drew another deep breath and sat up slowly, so as not to slosh the water too much. Her body slipped out of the tub as easily as it had slipped into it. Naked, dripping, cautious, she crept toward the door, hugging the wall, her lithe muscles tensed and ready to defend against any attack. A quick scan of the bathroom showed only her plastic stool and a long wooden stick with a sponge on one end to be the only things available in the way of possible weapons. With a determined frown, she scooped up the wooden stick.

Anger burned in her stomach that anyone would dare violate her precious haven, but it was the calm, controlled fuel of a fighter preparing for battle. Whoever this intruder was, they were in for one hell of a surprise if they thought any child of the Hoshinuma would be easy prey.

She reached the edge of the door, still plastered against the damp tile, and eyed the opening, trying to get a view of the room beyond. Silently, she cursed herself for leaving her phone on the coffee table and mentally scoured her apartment, keeping the layout firmly in her mind. If they were waiting in ambush, the only places strategically feasible were in her tiny bedroom or right outside the bathroom door. Any other spot would give her warning and a chance to fight back. If this intruder had even the smallest amount of sense, he would wait for her to exit the bath.

Her options were limited: she could either wait inside for the intruder to make a move; or, she could charge out into the apartment naked and without having a good sense of who her opponent was, and hope that those circumstances gave her the advantage.

She chewed on her lip...and a short, thick-fingered hand worked it's way through the opening. She stared in disbelief.

The fingers curled around the edge of the door, then tugged to slide the door fully open. A sickening anticipation permeated the croaking voice that spoke at the same time. "I'm telling you, Jak, she should already be –"

He was a short, corpulent little man who barely reached her hip. He had huge, bug-round eyes that shifted around with the proficiency of a child predator, and the lower half of his face was covered in some kind of cloth mask. All this she noted with distant disgust as she swung the flimsy wooden stick with as much force as she could muster, batting a thousand against the enormous bulbs of his eyes. She felt the wood in her hands connect, and crack just a bit under the pressure.

The strange man let out a keening croak of agony and stumbled backward across the threshold. Sango didn't wait for him to recover but jammed the heel of her foot into his stunted body, sending his stumble into a full-blown careen backwards into her living room. The fact that he'd been talking to someone hadn't escaped her, and she followed him out, going down onto one knee and thrusting her damaged stick in the direction of the stunned yelp that had sounded from behind the smaller intruder.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a lovely flower-patterned kimono, a red-painted mouth and dark eyes rounded in shock. Black hair loosely curled and bound, a few messy strands tumbled about a face that somehow managed to be both masculine and feminine at the same time. A sword hilt, sticking out from a sheath against a back.

Even with the ridiculous get-up, something about this second intruder had her blood tingling a warning. _Dangerous._

Then the point of her stick made contact with a gut, and the second man (at least, she though it was a man – no breasts) grunted in outrage. She followed with a surge upward, bringing her knee up to his groin with all the weight of her body. It would have worked if he hadn't twisted at the last moment, taking the blow on his hip with another grunt. His hand whipped out to smack her away like an pesky insect, but she absorbed the blow with her arm and used the momentum to throw out a strong left.

Her fist hit his eye, the blow strong enough to reverberate back along her bone.

Intruder number two's head snapped back, but he recovered fast – _So fast, too fast_, she realized. _Who are these guys_? – and swept his feet under hers, knocking her onto her back. She hit the ground and lost her breath, but managed to roll to the side before his fist slammed with stunning force into the floor where her head had been.

Sango staggered to her feet, fear adding a sharp spike to her adrenaline. These were no ordinary criminals. The second guy, at least, was a seasoned fighter, a trained warrior, and obscenely strong given his ridiculous appearance. Whatever they wanted, they might very well get it unless she got out of there.

_Now._

He looked up from his fist, seemed surprised that she'd managed to dodge. "Oh? You're moving pretty well there." He jerked his head around, his tone complaining. "Hey! Mukotsu! Your poison's not working!"

_Poison_?

Sango's eyes darted to the side, where the smaller man had just started to shake himself out in a corner of her tiny apartment. She didn't wait to see what else he would do. She charged the second man while he was distracted, body-slamming him back against the wall, grabbing one of his hands at the same time. She twirled, braced her bare feet, and heaved, thanking her parents, ancestors, and all the gods for years of hard training and muscle memory.

With a shocked squeal, the taller one went crashing into her coffee table.

Seeing him momentarily stunned, she whirled with the stick in her hand, intending to beat the smaller guy back into submission once more, just enough for her to get out of the apartment, nakedness be damned, and –

A plume of purple smoke hit her face, burned her lungs as she choked on it. Her knees hit the floor with a hard crack that she vaguely thought should have hurt more. The stick, to her distant alarm, slid through fingers that didn't seem to have any feeling left in them. Then the rest of her hit the ground, the world dimming as if someone had hit a light switch. She heard voices echoing from a far off place in her head.

_Ah! That surprised me. _The clatter of broken wood. _You didn't kill her, did you?Aniki will be mad._

_Heh, heh, heh. Don't worry, my poisons always work_.

_That first one didn't, did it? Gave the bitch a chance to touch my beautiful face._

Another thick, croaking laugh. _You always were twisted, to think you're prettier than she. She'd make a lovely plaything. Shall I test her to make sure Renkotsu's information was accurate_?

An irritated groan. _Hey, hey. Why do you think Aniki sent me with you, Mukotsu? You're not supposed to touch the merchandise._

She felt hands on her naked flesh, hefting her into the air, and a dull whisper as the last thing in her mind.

_ Merchandise_?

Abruptly, the world finished its fade.

* * *

%%%%%%%%

Rin slammed her way into her studio apartment with an enthusiastic, gusty sigh, feeling utterly satisfied. Her stomach was full, her afternoon had been filled with dear old friends, and her evening filled with laughter. What a fantastic way to spend her first day back in the country.

Her luggage, two overstuffed bags and one box more than she'd left with, was still piled up by the wall where she'd had them dropped off upon her arrival from the airport. Her lips took on a gentle-wry upward curve. From the airport to home, and from home to her friends, and all without a moment to deal with the jet-lag. At least she had her priorities in order, right?

Rin toed off her heels, left them in a messy upside down sprawl somewhere near the door and puttered barefoot towards the kitchen set up in one far corner of the huge space that made up her living quarters. Even with all her money and fame, she'd been lucky to find a third-floor efficiency like this in Tokyo. It was all one huge, echoing room, with a smaller bathroom off to the side of the entrance, and huge, slanted windows opposite the kitchen corner to let in massive amounts of sunlight. She'd set up her work space over there in the sunlight, so that her drafting desk faced the upward view of the sky and the canvases in various sizes and stages of completion were catching as much of it as possible.

Famous artist that she was, consummate professional that she was, Rin needed the sunlight to work properly. She needed the open spaces and the fresh breezes that carried her inspiration to her on those days when she made the effort to heft open those huge, rust-edged windows.

On the other side of her apartment was her actual living space: a bed pushed up against the far wall and covered in a messy mass of blankets and pillows. A short couch, a coffee table, and a television all grouped around a woven area rug, and a nice radio sat on a tiny bookcase behind them. Her comforting, colorful, welcoming little mess. Even the huge wardrobe where she kept her clothes was open and in disarray, and somehow she'd left her full-length cheval mirror tilted towards the wall.

Rin inhaled and smiled in greeting at her surroundings. "It's good to be back," she said, softly, to the room at large, then made a face. "In Austria, they made me stay in that tiny little room in a dorm. Can you believe that?" A tiny shudder shook her frame. "How they expected me to work in a box I'll never know."

She was only twenties, but she'd had enough of boxes to last her a lifetime, thank you.

She padded her way into the small-but-functional kitchenette, plopped her bag down heavily onto a free bit of counter space, and turned a tired eye to the rather large pile of envelopes that was still sitting in the same place she'd left them when she'd absconded for her little teaching holiday a few weeks before.

Her brow knit as she studied it. "Is it just me, or did it get bigger?"

_Oh, that's right_. Rin rolled her eyes. Her agent had volunteered to check her mail for her while she was gone. It was his fault her mail pile had once again turned into a living, breathing monster that must be tamed. She sighed again, concluding with reluctance that a late night session of mindless television and catching up on her long neglected mail might be a good way to unwind from a very hectic day. Thus decided, she grabbed a bottle of water from her fridge, tucked the large pile of letters into her arms, and exited towards her overstuffed couch.

Humming and content, she dumped the pile of mail onto the small coffee table (next to the dirty coffee mug and crumb-littered plate she'd left there in her hurried departure for the airport), and plopped her weary body down onto one of the brilliant violet and crimson cushions flanking the coffee table. She tied her hair back with the multicolored scarf she found peeking out from beneath the carpet edge, rummaged around in the couch until she came up with the remote from under the middle cushion (right where she usually kept it) and flipped the television on. If she wasn't mistaken, she was just in time for....

"_Good evening, everyone! Thank you for watching us once again tonight as we bring you the evening edition of 'In The Know', the most popular live show on television! I'm your beautiful hostess Eri --"_

_ "And as always, I'm your lovely co-hostess Yuka, and we thank everyone for tuning in tonight as we bring you all the latest scoops on things you didn't know you wanted to know!_"

Rin grinned as the two perky young women smiled at their cheering, clapping crowd and settled more comfortably onto her knees as she started sorting through the mail: bills in one sort-of pile; fan mail and work related in another; junk mail on the floor in the out-of-sight, out-of-mind pile.

_"We're getting buzz from China that youkai Prime Minister Taigokomaru and his son arrived at the Split Consulate building to begin arrangements for visits to the human territory, which still seems to be on despite Prime Minister Takeda's cool response when asked about it earlier this week. Taigokomaru's son, Tsukuyomaru, pictured here, is head of security for the negotiation team and is said __to be coordinating directly with both mediator and government officials."_

_ "Incidentally, since the images of Tsukuyomaru surfaced this morning, Internet searches on the youkai government's head of security have skyrocketed. Unfortunately, everyone, Eri and Yuka's sources tell us he's married...to a human woman."_

_ "They call them contracts, Eri. She would be his contracted mate."_

Rin rolled her eyes and tossed another junk letter onto the floor, then froze as her fingers brushed over the familiar pale blue shade of the envelope beneath it.

_"Oh? Contracts?"_

_ "Yes. According to our excellent research staff, youkai society is built on contracts."_ A whiteboard appeared on set, complete with illustrative chart._ "Everything they do is covered by them, from business arrangements to personal ones. In fact, contracts are so important to youkai that they even use some kind of magic to ensure that contracts are kept. Depending on the type of contract, breaking one can actually put your life at risk._"

_"No!_"

"_Yes!_" A cheerful grin and a wink followed that mock-horrified affirmation. "_So, if anyone out there ever comes into contact with a youkai, be sure to avoid a contract. You never know what it might cost you._"

Murmurs and laughter erupted from the live studio audience, but the rest of the television chatter seemed to fade into the background.

Barely breathing, Rin flipped the small envelope over and traced a nail over the long, elegant handwriting that scrolled a simple "Rin", followed by her address, across the front. She blinked, then drew in the breath she'd been holding as she worked a finger into the fold and unceremoniously ripped the top open. It was only a single sheet this time, but her features still softened into an affectionate smile as she unfolded it and read the familiar script.

_Rin,_

_It appears that you have arrived back in the Human Territories safely. Your teaching efforts were well-received by the foreigners, and the press has been positive. You've drawn much attention to your work, and it will no doubt positively affect your next show. You have said many times that your desire is to reach larger audiences with your paintings, and I believe that your trip to Austria will result in that. It seems that, this time, your uncontrollable impulsiveness is well-rewarded._

_I trust your next series is going well. Your show is only a few months away, and you will cause your agent as much trouble as your actions have the tendency to cause me if you are not finished in time. I advise you to avoid this. The man is weak enough before the crippling stress you induce. A nervous break-down would be undesirable._

A huge grin split her face. He'd made a joke. Most people would read that as an insult, but she'd been communicating with him for too long to not recognize the humor when she saw it. He might even have been smiling as he wrote it. Her mysterious benefactor rarely joked with her, and each instance had always felt more precious to her than any of the gifts he'd sent over the years.

She surged to her feet and walked over to her bed, letter still in hand. Dropping to her knees, she reached a hand into the abyss underneath and groped around, discarding numerous mysteriously shaped items until her fingers grabbed onto the smooth side of a cardboard box. She pulled it out and studied the large, deep, square shoe box between her knees.

The battered red top slid off easily, and she found herself staring at one of the few things in her life she actually kept organized. Stacks and stacks of letters – all blue, all addressed to her in the same elegant handwriting – sat within, clumped into bundles held by rubber bands, dated and tucked away with care. She brushed her hand over the refined paper inside, then she sighed and turned her attention back to the letter in her hand.

_Now, as to the matter of your sudden trip. I understand the circumstances of your childhood have nurtured in you a propensity for wandering and a love of travel. However, as I written in the past, you must remember to inform me in some manner of a trip before you depart. A simple note will suffice. Understand that it creates extra work for me to find you when you simply disappear. I dislike being uninformed of your safety. Should you get into trouble at such a time, it would be more difficult for me to assist you than when I am fully aware of your circumstances. You have the address to contact me at any time. You will keep me informed, and we will avoid such matters._

_Continue your work on your paintings. I look forward to them, as always._

_~S_

Rin read sat there and read over the letter several times, her eyes eating up each word as if they were the rarest of gourmet meals, before she roused herself. Carefully, she folded her letter back into its envelope, dated it, and left it on the rug near her bed where she'd see it later, when she wrote him back. The address he'd mentioned was a peculiar one that she hadn't been able to track with any amount of pleading, bribery or success. All she'd been able to find out for sure when she'd tried to track it was that anything she sent that way went to somewhere in China – and that it moved very, very fast. Anything she'd ever sent "S", he'd most likely received within a twenty-four hour period.

She'd often wondered why he didn't just contact her by phone or e-mail, but she'd never gotten an answer to her questions about it.

Gently, she tucked the box back under her bed and easy access. She was tempted to go through them all, to spend the rest of her evening going back over the only relationship from her childhood that had meant anything to her, but he had asked her to work on her paintings.

And every time he prodded her about her paintings, she got the urge to paint. He was her muse as well as her beloved protector. Too bad she'd never met him – or better put, too bad she couldn't _remember_ when she'd met him.

With a sigh that was both satisfied and sad, she stood. Leaving the TV on so that Eri and Yuka could drone on in their peculiar twist of celebrities and politics, she wandered to the other side of her studio, to the raised section of floor where she kept all her paintings supplies and in-progress canvases right in front of those huge, rusty, floor-to-ceiling windows. She flipped the lamp that flooded the dark corner with light, but didn't stop at any of her current half-finished pieces. She kept walking until she came to the very corner of her workspace, the blank space of wall that was angled so it was almost hidden unless a person stood in her workspace and looked to the right.

Three portrait-sized canvases hung on the wall, each in varying stages of completion. Each showed the same scene, with a variation of action. The scene was an alley: filthy, littered with garbage, crawling with rats, and deeply shadowed.

In the first, the alley was shown through the bars of a cage that were spattered with a violent red, and in front of the cage, a tall stranger. He was dressed in suit – tie-less – and held himself with grace, confidence, and strength as he stared down at occupant of the cage, his long gray hair falling in silky strands around broad shoulders, a long, thin sword held loosely in one fist.

The second was the same scene, seen from the same eyes, except now the cage door stood open, and the tall stranger had knelt down, his pants in the bloodied dirt of the ground, his arms reaching into the cage, his long fingers dripping with the ominous red of blood, but spread in welcome.

The third still set in the alley, but now only at the edges of the canvas. Now, the eyes of the painting were free of the cage, had backed away a bit to see past the back of a young, filthy head, up past the spare edge of a battered face to the stranger as he stared down at the girl curled protectively in his arms. She had one small, bloody, scab-crusted hand raised towards his chin, but it was his face and long hair that filled the majority of the third canvas.

She called it her "Stranger in the Night" series.

Rin reached out and brushed her fingers over the third, running the soft, sensitive tips over the face that was the focus. Each canvas had flaws: the colors weren't right, the hair wasn't right. But those were small things, things easily fixed with the right materials. Her biggest frustration was his face.

He didn't have one.

In each painting, the face of the stranger was blank, a smooth, taunting bit of white. She'd tried so many times to fill in the glaring spot, but each time it had ended with the manic depression of failure.

She'd been working on them for years. More years than she cared to count. They were her own intensely personal reflection of the night that had changed her whole world, a tribute to the rescuer who had let her become the woman she was. Her mysterious "S".

She'd never been able to work up the courage to ask him why he'd pulled her out of her cage that night. Her life before then was nothing but a waking, blurred nightmare of memory, filled with beatings, cruelty, slavery. For years, they'd kept her, a small child, in a cage, fed her garbage, and sold her to whichever customer was willing to pay the highest price. It was a miracle she'd survived long enough to be in that right place at that right time.

She didn't remember the circumstances that had led her to being in a cage outside that night, but she remembered very clearly the screams of the ones who'd beaten and sold her, the sensation of being pulled from her cage and carried away from that horrible place...

...waking up in a private hospital and being told that all of her expenses were taken care of, that all she had to do was get well...

...wanting to see him, only to find he'd just left, always that he'd just left...

...and then the letters, assuring her that he had taken her into his care, that he intended to keep a careful eye on her, followed by years of letters and gifts, all delivered by special carrier and untraceable. She owed him everything, and yet she'd seen him not once since that life-changing night. Oh, she'd managed to coax out some things about him – he was wealthy, a business man, he had a very high opinion of himself (and who was she to disagree?), and he was much, much older than she (whatever _that_ meant) – but she'd never heard his voice, touched his sleeve, or...thanked him properly.

"Stranger in the Night" had been conceived in a frustrated dream-fit one night, her desperate attempt to connect with the man who'd saved her.

She frowned and let her fingers drift over the shadows of the paintings, the bits of bleak sky. It wasn't right. Forgetting about the face, the dark edges were all wrong; she'd been looking for just the right mix for years. It was her blues, she was sure. None of the shades she had appropriately captured the depth of the shadows as they'd been that night.

Rin sighed. Unlike many other professional painters, she mixed most of her own paints in her studio, so it was only a matter of finding the right materials. She'd heard recently of a rare plant that mixed into a strikingly dark pigment, but it was only found in some of the deepest parts of the Youkai Territories. Getting anything from beyond the Barrier was both expensive and difficult – and if it came from the most isolated parts, nearly impossible. She'd put out feelers to her suppliers for the plant in question, but hadn't heard anything back yet. Until something popped up, she would be stuck on her shadows.

Her frown darkened as she moved along on the details of her most intimate work. There was something wrong with her stranger's hair, too. The fall was right, the silky texture was right, but the gray color felt too light, too dark, too flat, too warped. Wrong. But no matter how she played with it, manipulated it, it never seemed to fit. It was as if the perfect shade she strove for didn't exist. Yet another area where her memory failed her.

Another sigh, and she stepped back from the three, far enough to study them together, her bow knit in thought. Maybe if she –

A knock pounded at her door.

Rin blinked and jerked her head around, only vaguely surprised at having visitors. She was an artist, after all, and often kept odd hours for herself because she had the tendency to paint whenever inspiration struck. Like now.

The knock sounded again, harder and louder this time, more insistent.

A little miffed now, despite her own propensities, that someone would have such impatient audacity so late at night, she stomped over to the door. "All right, all right. I heard you." Not bothering to check, she unchained the door and ripped it open. "Could you possibly make a little more noise? I don't think they heard you on –" A sudden sense of self-preservation jerked her to a stop.

Two men stood in the hallway in front of her. One was obscenely tall and just as thickly muscled, with red hair and a gaudy amount of metal decorating his body – he even had some kind of plate squared across his jaws and chin, though how that was any kind of fashion statement escaped her – and his eyes were big, dull, and stupidly flat. The other was shorter but still far taller than her, and also held himself up under layers of muscle. His black hair was spiked and wild, his clothes a sad combination of dark military chic and grunge, and his eyes were...large, dark, and wild.

_Insane_, her mind whispered.

Both men towered over her; both men watched her with eerie intent, like she was a bunny and they a pair of ravenous wolves.

Fear bloomed in her stomach, went sour and crisp on her tongue. Whoever these predators were, they were _not friends_.

The second one grinned at her, a sharp baring of teeth. "Kowizawa Rin?"

Rin sucked in a breath and tried to slam the door shut. The first man's big hand smacked against the edge, countering her strength with ease, while the second's smile grew wide and nasty. Easy strength shoved the door back at her, and the force of it sent her stumbling backwards to trip on her own feet and land hard on her butt.

She stared up at them with huge, horrified eyes and a throat frozen in terror as both men stepped their big boots into her home. The gigantic one looked down at her and let out a cold, almost mechanical laugh.

"Geh, geh, geh, geh, geh."

The second crouched in front of her, his expression as cruel and hard-edged with delight at her suffering as the men who'd imprisoned her as a child. For a terrible moment, it threw her back to the little girl she'd been long ago, cowering in a dirty cage, desperate to survive – and then, blessedly, brought her boomeranging right back around to the woman she was today, the one who _had_ survived, who knew herself well, knew her worth and what she could endure.

The fear in her throat unclotted a bit as she pulled her knees into her chest. "What do you want?" she whispered, forcing herself to stare into an expression that echoed her nightmares.

He smirked, and she could almost see saliva dripping from his teeth. "You have an appointment with a friend of ours." His hand shot up from his pocket and slapped a thick cloth over her mouth.

Too late, she thought to scream. Too late, she flung out her arms and kicked her feet in struggle.

_Too late_, she realized with self-directed anger as the sickly-sweet smell drifted into her nostrils and her body began to go limp.

"S" would be so disappointed in her.

* * *

%%%%%%%%

Kagome tilted her head back and inhaled the warm night air as she made her slow way along the sidewalk. The heels of her flats made made soft clopping sounds on the concrete, and the hum of Tokyo traffic was a steady background ebb and flow that felt as comforting as a walking companion. The throng of people around her would trickle to almost nothing as she got closer to her apartment, but for now she was content to be a faceless body in a steady crowd.

Several hours of checking and cataloging the new book arrivals with Ayumi had kept both of them much later than normal, and Kagome was a little worn out after a day that felt more eventful than it actually had been. Thankfully, Ayumi was surprisingly quick to pick up routine, and since she'd already had some experience from her high school library, they'd gotten far more done than Kagome had expected of the evening. She was grateful, because that meant less work tomorrow. She was also grateful because the basically simple chore coupled with Ayumi's random cheerful chatter had given her time to really think – which, she thought, was something she'd been putting off recently.

With a sigh, her mind confronted it:

_Houjou_.

She didn't understand what had been going on inside her herself. From their very first meeting across the library check-out counter, Houjou's bright-faced friendliness had attracted her. She hadn't even hesitated when he'd invited her to lunch that very day, or when they'd started dating less than a week later. She'd been flattered and happy the first time he'd taken her hand and asked her with sincere, hopeful eyes to stay the night in his apartment. And it had been a good night, pleasurable and sweet.

She and Houjou fit so _well_ together. They spent their free time together in activities they both enjoyed, handled their conflicts with maturity and understanding, and agreed on their ideas about life and family. Smooth compatibility. It had all flowed so naturally, one progression into the next, that she hadn't even noticed how serious it was becoming until he'd said those words. And then, stunned and unable to find a reason to reject it, she'd said yes.

Because why would she say no to a man who was perfect for her?

She bit at her thumbnail, unnerved by her own ambivalence. Never before had she questioned what the affection she felt for him really meant. And it _was_ affection; she cared about Houjou. But Rin and Sango were right: it had never been this serious before; she'd never had to think about what it was they had between them. They were compatible in every area she could think of, she enjoyed and valued his companionship – and yet she still had this nagging sense of wrongness plaguing her every time she thought about committing herself to him for the rest of her life.

As if to prove her right, her stomach twisted into knots so tight they sent dull shots of pain into her head and her chest constricted. All of which left her with the agonizing question: If he asked her to marry him, would she be able to dredge up another yes?

Frustration was a burning whip in her mind, in her heart. It didn't make any sense. She wanted a home, a family. And yet....

She'd finally left the busier city streets and turned into a more residential area, populated by tall, square apartment buildings with balconies on every floor. The streets around her seemed even more quiet than usual tonight. Only a few souls passed beneath the street lights on their way to and from a home or a job.

Kagome turned down another street, and smiled despite her internal turmoil. She'd made it to a point where the apartment buildings had started to give way to individual houses, one of the many small, curious spreads of suburbia that sprawled throughout certain parts of the city. This area was very familiar to her, because she'd lived here when she'd been very small, before the accident had forced them to make a new life at the shrine with Ji-chan. She had many fond, fuzzy memories of the community.

The house where they'd lived was the place where she'd learned from watching Mama and Papa what a wonderful thing it could be to love someone and share a life with them. Kagome didn't remember the house specifically so much as she did that warmth and happiness. Papa had loved Mama with devotion and openness, and their home had enjoyed a certain quality of warmth and joy that had never quite been the same, even after so many years of happiness at the shrine. The details were sketchy, but the feeling had stayed with her long after Mama had lost Papa and the house they'd lived in was less than a memory.

What she did remember, vividly, was the park. She'd spent a lot of her days playing there when she was little, and had an odd emotional attachment to it even now. After they'd moved to the shrine, she'd often thought back to her old playground with a wistfulness that had never accompanied her vague memories of their house. In her mind, that park was still a haven of peace and security, and she often visited it when she needed to relax and think. In her most honest moments, she could even admit that the small park was the main reason she'd decided to live nearby instead of in one of the cheaper apartments closer to the library.

Without a conscious decision, her feet turned away from her apartment, where Houjou was waiting. She walked for ten minutes before she found herself in front of the community park: a sprawling, open area of walkways, trees, bushes...and at the center, a huge, sandy square filled with a curious mix of climbable structures, slides, and swings. Concrete stairs sloped down into the play area from the road; still spurred by instinct, Kagome took them. It was deserted and dark, save for a faint glow from the lights on the street above, but that didn't bother her. In fact, just then she preferred it – solitary and quiet, as if it were her own personal secret.

Kagome kicked off her shoes, stepped her bare toes into the coolness of the sand, and threw back her head. Her eyes closed and she just stood there, absorbing the atmosphere, feeling the knots in her chest slowly unwind. Breathing. Thinking.

_Come on, Kagome, what's wrong_?

Rin thought that Houjou was going to propose to her tonight, and for all the casual impermanence with which Rin treated her own sex life, she was rarely wrong when it came to others' relationships. And knowing Houjou as she did, Kagome couldn't disagree. He was an honorable man; if he even once thought that living together would disrespect her in any way, he would reverse course immediately to rectify that. And it wasn't as if they hadn't talked about getting married before – though that was a fact she'd never told Rin or Sango.

The quandary remained: marriage and children were something Kagome had always wanted. Houjou was a loving, considerate man whom she respected and loved in return. They could very easily make a good life together. So what was the problem? Why did her whole being bare down in protest a little more each time the word marriage appeared in conjunction with Houjou in her mind?

She tucked the fingers of her right hand around her pinky and rubbed anxiously at the small appendage with her thumb – a nervous fidget Mama had been chiding her for since childhood. She didn't know when she'd started it, or why, but she –

_Mama_.

Kagome drew in a deep breath, opened her eyes, and started pacing, dragging her toes through the grains.

She had asked Mama once, many many years before while sitting beneath the sacred Goshinboku tree within the shrine, how she had known Papa was the one for her. Mama had smiled, looked up at the tree and gestured to the branches above their heads and told her they'd been sitting right there when her father had proposed to her mother.

_I had my doubts_, she'd said with quiet contentment on her face. _We argued about silly things a lot when we were younger, and I wasn't sure if we could make it work. But when I thought of living the rest of my life without him, my heart flew into the most terrible panic_. She'd looked down at Kagome, and her smile had been almost radiant. _When I thought of saying yes, everything went as crystal clear and calm as the sun shining down on us through the branches, and I just knew that I had to stay with him, no matter how hard it would be._

Kagome stopped pacing and stared blankly down at her feet, her heart dropping with nauseating dismay. She dug her feet deep until the sand brushed against her ankles, trying to root herself into the ground, trying to let the peace of the park, the familiar feel of the place comfort her.

It wasn't the same. She loved Houjou, but not the way Mama had loved Papa, and probably not the way that she needed to love the man she would marry. Rin had been right about the distance between them, and Sango had been right about about her hesitancy. Kagome didn't understand _why_, but for all of Houjou's charm, consideration, and dependability, she lacked some essential connection with him. It was nothing she could pinpoint exactly, only something she knew: the emotion she felt for Houjou was real, but it somehow wasn't _right_.

Feeling heavy, Kagome let her body lower into a crouch over the sand, pressed cold fingertips against her lips. "Oh my god," she whispered.

_She couldn't marry Houjou_.

How had it taken her so long to see it? She'd let them both go so far down a path that had been dead-end from the start, and it was time for her to stop it before they both made an irrevocable mistake. Her gut twisted up in a painful knot of guilt and sorrow; she felt physically ill. Throat burning with tears, she scooped her hand into the sand and watched dully as the fine grit sifted through her fingers.

Could they make a happy life together? She was certain they could – but her heart didn't belong to Houjou the way Mama's heart had belonged to Papa. It wouldn't be fair to either herself or Houjou for her to say yes when she couldn't bring herself to picture their future together without a bone-deep, terrified reluctance. More importantly, she didn't want to – couldn't – compromise in that way.

She surged to her feet and dug around in her purse for the sleek fold of her phone. It sat in her palm, a cold, indifferent stone. He was waiting for her at her home, confident that if he asked her to marry him, she'd say yes with a smile. But she couldn't marry him. Not now, and maybe not ever.

What to do now? Where did this leave them? Either way, she had to tell him.

He picked up after the second ring. He sounded easy and cheerful. "Hey, where have you been? I just called your work and no one picked up. I have a fabulous dinner waiting on you, slowpoke."

She blinked a couple of times, hard. "Houjou, I...."

The smile fell away from his voice like a veil. "Kagome? What's wrong?"

She felt like a traitor. After a year of companionship and friendship, how could she turn her back on everything they'd invested in each other? Why was it that doing so, that the thought of leaving Houjou was the only thing that eased the tight, screaming ache in her heart?

Concern for her firmed his voice. "Hey, hey. Did something happen?"

"What? No, I – Well, maybe." She drew a deep breath. "I just think...we need to talk, Ho – Eiji."

He hesitated. She heard his confusion in his silence, and then in his caution. "I think we need to talk, too. I told you that already."

She bit her lip, let her eyes wander the deserted structures in the sand as she searched for words.

After another a moment of silence, Houjou sighed. "Kagome.... I know things have been a little off between us recently, and I'm pretty sure it's my fault." Enthusiasm started to warm his words. "But I promise, I've definitely got a solution. I have it right here in my hand, actually. I'm sorry that it took me so long to – "

She was already shaking her head, though he couldn't see her. "No, Eiji, don't. Stop. I can't –" Her throat closed up. Oh god, oh god. She had to stop him from saying it, but she suddenly knew she couldn't say something so important over the phone, no matter how calming the sand covering her feet felt.

"What are you talking about?" Now he sounded alarmed. "Where are you? You're at that park, aren't you? Stay there. I'm coming to get you."

"No!" Panic cut through her guilt at the thought of him coming to her park. She'd never brought him here, though he knew about her fondness for it. She darted from the sandy play area, scooping to snag up her sensible flats on her way back towards the stairs. "No, I'll come home. I'll come home right now, and we'll talk." She paused right in front of the stairs to shove one foot in her shoe.

"Kagome, you're worrying me. What happened?"

The grit still on her feet scraped at her skin, and she grimaced, then stepped off the sidewalk to scrub her feet in the grass. "Nothing _happened_, really. I've just...we really need to talk." Above her, on the stairs, a large shadow appeared, the shape of a body moving down. She glanced up, vaguely disturbed by the shadow.

A man was walking down the stairs. He was tall, bald, and dressed in richly colored priest's robes.

A shiver of unease rippled over her skin. She blinked.

Houjou didn't sound pacified in the least. "You're at that park, right?"

The priest wore sandals, but they didn't make any noise. He stared at her kindly, his eyes illuminated by the soft beams of a light from somewhere behind her. He'd folded his arms into the heavy sleeves.

Kagome gave an uneasy roll of one shoulder, shifting the weight of her purse. Her little finger itched, but she couldn't rub at it with her shoes still in her hand.

The priest watched her intently, came a few steps closer. He was almost within touching distance.

"Kagome!"

She jumped, jerking her eyes to the phone still in her hand. "I – yes. I'm at the park. I should," she darted another discomfited glance at the priest, "be home soon, so, just wait, okay?"

"Well...are you sure you're all right?"

The guilt returned in a sudden wave. He'd always been so caring. She pressed her lips together. "Houjou –"

The priest stepped down off the last step and turned in her direction. He stared at her intently.

_He stared at her intently_.

She swallowed. He was priest. She had nothing to fear from a priest. Jii-chan was a priest, too.

His sandals came to a stop right in front of where she stood in the grass. Now that he was right in front of her, she could tell that he was young and handsome, and his eyes had the same kind...no, _cruel_...deeply cruel...a deeply hidden and rooted cruelty.

Her lungs seized. This man was nothing like her grandfather.

He stood right in front of her, and _looked_ at her. "Do you need help, Miss?"

She stepped back, shoes still in her hand, feeling her breath wheeze a bit as she forced it from her throat. "Uh.... No, thank you. I was just on my way home."

The phone clattered with some kind of noise. "Who is that?"

Kagome forced a brittle smile at the man in front of her. "Just a friendly priest taking a short-cut," she said into the phone, adding towards the man, "Thank you, sir, for your concern, but my family is waiting for me."

He smiled back and her heart nearly choked her with fear. The smile _should_ have been reassuring, but all she could see was the malice underlying the pleasant facade. She swallowed again and stepped onto the sidewalk and started walking backwards, towards the stairs. "Like I said, darling, I'm fine. You know how close the park is. I should be home in a few minutes. Has Father and his police detective friends already started their Mahjong?"

The priest's eyes widened...then so did his smile.

"Father? Mahjong? What are you –" Houjou's voice lowered urgently. "Kagome, is that man scaring you?"  
From the corner of her eye, Kagome noted that she'd hit the stairs, and paused, undecided. It was impossible to walk up stairs backwards, but she had the most horrible certainty that turning her back on this "priest" would be the worst mistake of her life. "Yes," she said with as much calm as she could muster over the adrenaline pumping through her ears.

Houjou paused. "He's a priest? You're sure?"

The bald man started walking after her. "Miss Higurashi, you still haven't put on your shoes. It would be bad for your feet to walk around without protection."

Funny, she was thinking the same thing about her life – she froze. "Hi-Higurashi?"

He took another step, smile unabated and confident. "That's your name, isn't it? Higurashi Kagome? Mid-class spiritual and librarian?"

She sucked in a breath. "Who are you?"

"Kagome, should I call the police?"

"No," she said quietly, brain and body wracked with a trembling, chaotic panic. They would never make it in time. "Stay on the line with me."

"Then, I'm coming to you. Get away from him as fast as you can."

Houjou, well-intentioned though he was, would never make it in time either.

The priest was an arm's distance from her. His hand came out of his sleeve, holding a thick white cloth.

She had to do something. _Now!_ She threw her shoes at his face, then turned to dart up the stairs when he ducked back. She actually made it halfway up the stairs before a thick, muscular arm clamped hard around her waist and plucked her off her bare feet. The thick cloth clamped down over her mouth, covering her scream.

"I told you," he whispered in her ear, "that walking around barefoot would hurt your feet. Now this kind priest will have to help you get home after all."

She fought, clawing at his forearm, kicking ineffectually back against the cushion of his robes. She tried screaming again, but the sickly-sweet scent pushing past her throat stole all her energy and turned her muscles to limp noodles. Against her will, her body sagged back against him, and she felt herself swung into a horizontal lift.

She heard his voice: "I've got her. We're heading to the chopper now."

And then she heard nothing.

%%%%%%%%

* * *

A/N: *whistles* Whoo. After so long away, I'd forgotten how much downright fun this story is. Next up is Mimsenri's Island, and all the fun tension of indentured servitude.

ShadesofNight


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